727 


WITH 


GAUGE  &  SWALLOW, 

Attorneys. 


BY 
ALBION    W.   TO  URGE  E, 

AUTHOR   OF   "A    FOOL'S   ERRAND,"    ETC. 


PHILADELPHIA: 

J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY. 

1890. 


Copyright,  1888,  by  E.  K.  ToURGfeE. 


Copyright,  1889,  by  J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY. 


[All  rights  reserved.} 


TO 

SAMUEL  F.  PHILLIPS, 

A  LAWYER  WORTHY  OF  THE  HIGHEST  HONORS  OF 
A  PROFESSION  HE  HAS  ABUNDANTLY  ADORNED, 
WHOSE  HEART  HAS  NEVER  GROWN  COLD  TO  THE 
ROMANCE  ITS  PRACTICE  REVEALS,  WHOSE  FAITH  IN 
DIVINE  JUSTICE  HAS  NOT  BEEN  DIMMED  BY  THE 
FALLIBILITY  OF  EARTHLY  TRIBUNALS,  AND  WHOSE 
SYMPATHY  FOR  HUMANITY  HAS  BUT  STRENGTH 
ENED  WITH  OBSERVATION  OF  ITS  INFIRMITIES, 
THIS  VOLUME  IS  DEDICATED  AS  A  TESTIMONIAL 
OF  ESTEEM. 


PREFACE. 


THE  romance  which  the  practice  of  his  profession  reveals  to  the 
lawyer  is  of  the  most  intense  and  fascinating  character.  The  law-office 
is,  in  fact,  the  battle-field  of  civilization,  and  the  lawyer  the  one  man 
to  whom  the  secrets  of  all  hearts  are  laid  bare.  He  knows  better  than 
any  one  else  the  good  and  ill  of  humanity,  and  in  what  proportion  joy 
and  sorrow  are  mingled  in  every  rank  of  life.  He  trains  the  strong 
for  conflict  and  arms  the  weak  for  defence.  At  one  time  he  holds  the 
shield  of  the  law  over  the  head  of  conscious  innocence,  and  again  hides 
with  it  the  crouching  figure  of  guilt.  Yet  he  rarely  knows,  or  cares  to 
know,  the  whole  history  of  any  life.  He  sees  specific  episodes  and 
catches  fleeting  glimpses  of  many  as  their  orbits  intersect  the  plane 
of  his  duty.  Thus  the  battle  of  life  becomes  to  him  an  endless  series 
of  independent  conflicts.  Individual  qualities,  personal  characteristics, 
striking  incidents,  make  up  his  view  of  human  existence. 

To  him  the  days  of  romance  are  by  no  means  a  thing  of  the  past. 
The  daily  facts  of  his  life  are  more  wonderful  than  the  legends  of 
King  Arthur's  time.  He  cares  little  for  "  surface  indications,"  because 
he  holds  in  his  hand  the  magic  keys  which  unlock  the  inmost  recesses 
of  every  heart—  hope  and  fear.  Love  tells  him  what  is  never  whispered 
in  the  loved  one's  ear ;  Greed  unfolds  to  him  its  schemes  of  aggrandize 
ment  and  asks  him  to  show  how  near  the  quagmire  of  crime  he  may 
safely  go  ;  Remorse  seeks  his  aid  to  show  the  path  of  reparation ;  and 
Shame  begs  him  to  draw  the  curtain  of  oblivion  over  evil  deeds.  He 
believes  in  miracles  because  they  are  daily  wrought  within  his  knowl 
edge.  He  hesitates  about  believing  anything  to  be  impossible,  because 
what  cannot  be  done  he  has  so  often  seen  achieved. 

!*  5 


6  PREFACE. 

Though  he  knows  the  secrets  of  more  hearts  than  any  other  mortal, 
he  is  rarely  a  pessimist.  He  cares  little  about  paint  and  powder,  warts 
and  wrinkles — the  shams  and  accidents  of  life;  but  looks  at  the  life 
itself,  and  sees  the  man  who  hides  himself  even  from  his  own  intro 
spection,  as  he  really  is.  He  does  not  lose  his  faith  in  human  nature, 
because  unexpected  acts  of  heroism  and  self-sacrifice  alternate  in  his 
experience  with  cases  of  complete  atrophy  of  the  moral  sense  and 
almost  incredible  perversion  of  the  right.  He  is  the  one  man  who 
realizes  how  generally  romance  underlies  the  life  we  foolishly  call 
"common,"  and  is  above  all  others  charitable  to  apparent  evil  and 
suspicious  of  claims  to  special  excellence,  since  he  knows  how  often 
kindly  motive  is  hidden  by  the  one  and  sinister  design  veiled  by  the 
other. 

The  danger  attending  any  attempt  to  use  this  material  in  fiction  is, 
in  the  case  of  a  layman,  lack  of  knowledge ;  on  the  part  of  a  practitioner, 
too  great  technicality.  The  layman's  ideas  of  the  lawyer's  life  are  usu 
ally  absurdly  incorrect,  and  his  notions  of  legal  procedure  ludicrously 
inexact.  On  the  other  hand,  the  lawyer  who  enters  the  field  of  fiction 
is  in  constant  danger  of  giving  too  much  attention  to  the  niceties  of 
practice  or  demonstration  of  theory,  which,  though  they  may  be  enjoy 
able  to  his  brethren  of  the  bar,  are  to  a  degree  incomprehensible  and 
wearisome  to  the  general  reader.  It  will  be  found,  therefore,  that, 
as  a  rule,  the  most  popular  legal  stories  are  those  which  turn  upon 
miracles  performed  by  the  phenomenal  practitioner  who  manipulates 
courts,  juries,  and  witnesses  by  a  sort  of  diablerie  which  the  non-pro 
fessional  writer  has  no  hesitation  in  evolving  from  his  inner  conscious 
ness  for  the  entertainment  of  credulous  or  unreflecting  readers.  Such 
a  writer  feels  no  delicacy  in  preventing  a  marriage  by  enjoining  legally 
qualified  parties,  or  causing  one  convicted  of  a  capital  felony  and  duly 
sentenced  and  reprieved,  to  apply  years  afterward  for  a  new  trial  on 
the  ground  of  freshly-discovered  testimony  ! 

The  truth  is  that  legal  miracles  are  not  abundant.  The  marvels 
which  the  lawyer  sees,  and  of  which  he  becomes,  perhaps,  a  part,  are 
usually  the  result  of  conditions  which  have  been  created  without  his  aid. 


PREFACE.  7 

His  art  consists  mainly  in  detecting  the  force  of  these  conditions,  and 
either  averting  evil  from,  or  wresting  advantage  for,  his  client  out  of  them. 
It  was  largely  to  avoid  falling  into  either  of  the  pitfalls  which  beset 
the  writer  who  uses  legal  incident,  and  also  a  desire  to  depict  that 
curious  panoramic  array  of  seemingly  unrelated  incidents  which  really 
constitutes  the  modern  lawyer's  outlook  upon  life,  that  the  plan  was 
adopted  of  making  a  subordinate  of  a  great  law-firm  relate  a  series 
of  episodes  which  gradually  culminate  in  the  story  of  his  own  romance. 
It  is  hoped  that  both  the  professional  and  non-professional  reader  may 
find  that  this  method  has  at  least  not  detracted  from  the  interest  of 
these  pages.  The  profession  will  easily  trace  the  line  of  probability  in 
all  these  narratives,  and  a  little  investigation  will  reveal  the  absolute 
verity  of  many  of  them. 

THE  AUTHOR. 
THOBHEIM,  August  1, 1889. 


CONTENTS. 


PJ  GH 

I.  PROFESSOR  CADMUS'S  GREAT  CASE 11 

II.  AN  UNLAWFUL  HONOR 36 

III.  A  RETAINER  IN  CUPID'S  COURT 56 

IV.  THE  LETTER  AND  THE  SPIRIT 77 

V.  A  SHATTERED  IDOL 107 

VI.  A  BILL  OF  DISCOVERY 123 

VII.  THE  NEW  ARYAN  MINE  vs.  NOBLES 140 

VIII.  A  CONFLICT  BETWEEN  CHURCH  AND  STATE 163 

IX.  How  I  BECAME  THE  WIDOW'S  ATTORNEY 179 

X.  "MISSIONARY  JOE"     195 

XI.  A  LEGAL  IMPRESSIONIST 213 

XII.  A  DISSOLVING  VIEW 232 

XIII.  THE  "LONG  VACATION" 251 


WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 


i. 

PROFESSOR   CADMUS 'S  GREAT  CASE. 

I  HAVE  been  with  Gauge  &  Swallow  half  a  lifetime.  Every  year 
I  think  I  will  go  when  the  next  begins ;  and  each  year's  end  finds 
me  still  at  my  desk.  I  entered  the  profession  by  the  strait  gate.  Grad 
uating  at  the  University,  where,  I  may  say,  I  stood  well  in  my  class,  I 
took  a  course  at  the  Law  School,  and  then  entered  the  office  as  an 
articled  clerk,  working  two  years  for  nothing  beyond  the  mere  oppor 
tunity  that  might  come  afterwards.  It  is  a  hard  road,  but  about  the 
only  one  by  which  a  man  gets  a  practice  in  the  metropolis,  unless  he 
has  money  or  friends  enough  to  make  his  opportunity  instead  of  waiting 
for  it. 

Nobody  need  be  told,  I  suppose,  that  Gauge  &  Swallow  is  the 
"  name  and  style"  of  one  of  the  most  famous  law  firms  of  the  country. 
Their  offices  fill  the  second  floor  of  a  block  which  occupies  perhaps  the 
most  valuable  corner  in  the  world,  overlooking  as  it  does  the  great  arena 
where  wild  beasts  fight  out  the  battles  of  fortune  and  men  are  hourly 
broken  on  the  wheels  of  chance.  Here  where  promises  to  pay  are 
uttered  by  the  million,  so  rapidly  that  the  best  trained  stenographers  can 
only  keep  the  barest  skeleton  memoranda  of  purchases  and  sales, — 
where  human  genius  has  devised  and  put  in  operation  a  contract-machine 
so  perfect  that  every  hour  of  every  day,  between  ten  and  three  o'clock,  it 
makes  and  records  more  contracts  than  the  whole  world  made  in  a  week 
a  hundred  years  ago, — here  the  great  lawyers  have  spread  their  toils,  and 
look  calmly  down  upon  their  prey.  Of  course  where  so  many  contracts 
are  made  some  must  be  broken ;  and  these  make  the  lawyer's  oppor 
tunity.  A  broken  promise  is  to  our  profession  what  a  broken  leg  is  to 
a  doctor ;  only  broken  promises  are  more  abundant  than  broken  legs, 
and  are  sometimes  patched  up  without  the  aid  of  splints. 

11 


12  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

There  is  something  very  romantic  to  my  mind  about  this  granite 
tower  of  refuge  which  bears  the  name  of  the  great  attorneys  above  the 
main  entrance.  Men  come  to  them  for  aid  whose  shoulders  sustain  the 
commerce  of  the  world.  There  are  rows  of  tin  boxes  on  the  shelves  of 
their  fireproof  vault  that  bear  names  which  represent  more  millions  of  value 
than  a  whole  State  could  show  upon  its  assessment-rolls  half  a  century 
ago.  These  are  not  filled  with  title-deeds  and  cumbrous  instruments  of 
lease  and  release  alone,  but  contain  magic  slips  of  paper, — some  hardly 
big  enough  to  hide  a  lady's  palm,  which  yet  represent  sums  it  makes 
one's  head  swim  to  contemplate.  Of  course  I  have  seen  strange  things 
here  in  my  time.  Such  an  office  as  ours  is  the  very  ph-ce  where  the 
crookedest  things  in  the  world  are  made  plain,  even  if  they  are  not 
always  made  straight. 

A  short  time  after  I  came  here,  an  incident  occurred  which  I  have 
always  regarded  as  one  of  the  most  remarkable  in  the  authentic  annals 
of  judicature.  By  some  chance  the  office  was  vacant  one  day,  except 
for  myself  and  the  office-boy,  when  Mr.  Gauge  came  in  from  a  reference 
which  had  occupied  his  attention  all  the  morning,  and  sent  the  boy  to 
the  restaurant  to  bring  in  his  lunch.  I  was  sitting  in  the  little  room 
which  served  as  an  antechamber  to  the  offices,  trimming  my  nails  and 
dreaming  of  the  time  when  I  should  be  a  partner  in  some  great  firm 
paying  more  thousands  a  year  for  their  office-rent  than  a  third-year  clerk 
gets  hundreds  for  his  services.  I  was  only  in  my  first  year  then  ;  and, 
although  I  was  a  regularly-licensed  attorney  and  counsellor-at-law  and 
entitled  to  write  LL.B.  after  my  name  by  virtue  of  my  degree  from  the 
Law  School,  it  would  be  yet  a  year  and  a  half  before  I  could  expect  to 
see  the  color  of  the  firm's  money,  and  my  third  year's  salary  would 
hardly  be  sufficient  to  pay  for  my  modest  lodgings  and  the  exceedingly 
plain  fare  of  the  boarding-house  I  then  patronized.  I  was  hungry,  and 
waited  impatiently  for  the  return  of  the  boy,  that  I  might  go  out  for 
my  own  lunch,  thinking  in  turn  how  I  could  get  the  most  enjoyment 
out  of  the  fifteen  cents  I  allowed  myself  for  the  mid-day  meal,  and  what 
a  luxury  it  would  be  to  come  rushing  into  such  palatial  quarters,  with  a 
thousand  or  perhaps  a  five-thousand  dollar  fee  in  hand  for  my  morning's 
work,  and  send  over  to  Delmonico's  for  a  lunch  with  liquid  accompani 
ments  whose  cost  alone  would  have  supplied  my  wants  for  a  week.  I 
lived  modestly  then,  you  see, — partly  from  necessity  and  partly  because 
I  thought  it  better  to  economize  at  the  outset  of  my  career  than  after 
wards  when  others  might  be  dependent  upon  my  efforts ;  for  even  then 


PROFESSOR  CADMUS1  S  GREAT  CASE.  13 

I  was  looking  forward  to  those  domestic  pleasures  which  have  since 
been  the  object  of  my  most  ardent  desire,  as  well  as  to  the  professional 
honors  which  I  hoped  to  achieve. 

It  was  only  by  the  utmost  persistency  that  I  obtained  a  place  in 
the  office  of  Gauge  &  Swallow  at  all.  In  fact,  Mr.  Swallow  said,  with 
one  of  his  noted  chuckles,  that  he  guessed  they  would  have  to  take  me 
in,  in  order  to  keep  me  out.  Neat  compliment,  that.  I  have  always 
been  noted  for  my  persistency ;  and  that  is  not  the  only  time  it  has 
been  rewarded.  Persistency,  neatness,  and  diligence  are  great  virtues. 
To  the  first  I  owe  the  fact  that  I  got  a  place  in  our  offices ;  to  the  second, 
that  I  was  engaged  in  Professor  Cadmus's  great  case ;  and  to  the  third, 
or  rather,  perhaps,  to  all  three  combined,  that  I  became  a  trusted 
clerk,  a  partner,  and  finally — but  it  is  yet  too  soon  to  write  of  that. 

As  I  said,  I  was  paring  my  nails  in  the  outer  room.  I  was  always 
careful  of  my  hands,  and  it  requires  a  good  deal  of  attention  to  keep 
them  in  proper  condition  in  the  dust  and  grime  of  the  city  while  doing 
the  miscellaneous  work  that  devolves  on  a  junior  clerk  in  a  great  law- 
office.  I  never  forgot  myself,  however,  and  fancy  that,  though  I  was 
the  youngest,  there  was  not  a  more  presentable  man  in  the  whole1  force. 
I  suppose  it  was  on  account  of  my  universally  neat  appearance  that  I 
was  for  a  long  time  employed  almost  entirely  to  represent  the  firm  in 
communicating  with  other  lawyers,  especially  where  verbal  messages  had 
to  be  transmitted.  Of  course  I  would  rather  have  done  other  work, — 
work  somewhat  better  suited  to  the  preparation  I  had  made  and  the 
rank  I  had  acquired  in  the  university.  However,  I  made  no  complaint, 
always  went  cheerfully,  and  performed  these  humble  tasks  as  conscien 
tiously  as  I  have  since  discharged  the  most  important  duties  intrusted 
to  my  hands. 

As  I  sat  there  trimming  my  nails,  it  occurred  to  me  that  Mr.  Gauge 
had  ordered  lunch  for  two.  I  wondered  why  he  had  done  so.  Mr. 
Swallow,  I  knew,  was  in  Washington,  attending  to  an  important  matter 
before  the  Supreme  Court  of  the  United  States ;  and  I  had  learned 
from  a  despatch  sent  him  the  day  before  that  he  was  not  expected  home 
for  some  time.  Whom  could  Mr.  Gauge  expect  to  lunch  with  him  ? 
There  was  not  a  soul  in  the  office  except  myself.  Would  he  invite  me 
to  share  his  symposium  ?  I  actually  laughed  at  the  absurdity  of  the 
notion.  It  was  a  pleasant  fancy,  though,  and  it  flashed  upon  my  mind 
that  he  had  greeted  me,  upon  entering,  with  unusual  cordiality.  Could 
it  be  ?  It  was  altogether  unlikely ;  but,  after  all,  I  was  a  gentleman 
2 


14  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

and  a  member  of  the  profession.  There  was  no  good  reason  why  I 
should  not  be  asked  to  lunch  or  even  dine  with  him.  I  was  in  his 
employ,  it  is  true,  but  I  had  the  same  right  to  sit  within  the  bar  as  he, 
— at  least  in  the  State  courts;  the  rule  regulating  admission  to  the 
Federal  courts  of  this  district  still  excluded  me  from  them.  Just  then 
the  boy  entered,  with  a  waiter  from  the  restaurant  at  his  heels.  I 
sniffed  the  air  after  they  passed  through,  wondering  what  dishes  the 
silver  covers  concealed,  and  if  I  really  would  be  asked  to  taste  their 
contents. 

So  absorbed  was  I  in  this  revery  that  I  did  not  hear  the  door  open, 
or  perceive  that  any  one  had  entered,  until  a  voice  beside  me  ex 
claimed, — 

"  Well,  young  man,  when  you  get  through  contemplating  your  nails 
will  you  be  kind  enough  to  pay  some  attention  to  me  ?" 

I  looked  up  with  a  start,  and  saw  a  tall  man,  with  broad  square 
shoulders,  bent  slightly  forward,  a  heavy  beard — reddish  brown,  streaked 
with  gray — falling  over  his  breast,  the  moustache  cut  squarely  across, 
showing  a  firm  under-lip,  a  pair  of  gold-bowed  spectacles  upon  his 
nose,  and  wearing  a  silk  hat  of  a  style  remote  enough  to  be  unrecogniza 
ble  by  me,  though  1  am  inclined  to  notice  such  things  with  some  care. 
He  was  looking  at  me  over  his  glasses,  and  I  could  see  a  twinkle  in 
the  gray  eyes  that  hid  away  under  the  tawny  brows  which  stretched  with 
curious  continuity  along  the  edge  of  the  high  forehead  his  carelessly- 
worn  hat  exposed. 

I  was  so  startled  by  his  rudeness  that  I  forgot  for  a  moment  both 
the  duties  of  my  position  and  the  instincts  of  a  gentleman.  I  thought 
I  saw  traces  of  a  smile  about  his  mouth  as  he  looked  down  upon  me. 
I  was  not  large,  as  you  may  imagine,  being  then  several  pounds  below 
my  present  weight.  The  assumption  of  superiority  based  on  altitude 
and  circumference,  however,  always  galled  me,  and  I  said,  very  coolly, 
as  I  rose  and  brushed  the  nail-parings  oif  my  vest, — 

"Will  you  be  seated,  sir?" 

The  stranger  did  not  answer,  but,  thrusting  a  white  hand  into  hia 
vest-pocket,  pulled  out  a  silver  watch,  glanced  at  its  open  face,  and 
said, — 

" Is  Mr.  Gauge  in?— or  Mr.  Swallow?" 

"  Excuse  me,  sir,"  I  said,  affably.  "  Pray  be  seated.  The  chief 
clerk  is  out.  If  there  is  anything  I  can  do  for  you " 

"  You !"  interrupted  the  stranger,  with  an  amused  look  that  was 


PROFESSOR  CADMUS' 'S  GREAT  CASE.  15 

very  irritating.  "  Young  man,  I  did  not  ask  for  the  chief  clerk,  but 
for  your  employers.  Will  you  be  kind  enough  to  let  me  know  whether 
they  are  in  or  not  ?" 

"  Have  you  any  business  with  them  ?"  I  asked,  gravely. 

"  Never  mind  about  my  business,  my  little  man.  You  will  have 
your  hands  full,  I  judge,  if  you  attend  to  your  own." 

"  If  you  will  give  me  your  card,  sir "  I  said,  stiffly,  extending 

my  hand  for  his  pasteboard. 

"  Card  !     I  haven't  any.     Tell  Gauge No— hold  on." 

He  seized  a  pen  lying  upon  the  rack,  and,  taking  a  blank  card  from 
a  pocket  at  the  end  of  my  desk,  he  laid  it  on  the  narrow  upright  top 
and  with  a  rapid  and  easy  movement  covered  it  with  the  most  intricate 
mass  of  light  and  shaded  curves  I  had  ever  seen.  When  he  had 
finished,  the  card  was  checked  all  over  its  face  almost  as  evenly  as  if 
done  by  lathe- work,  but  across  the  middle  was  traceable,  in  unmistakable 
shading,  the  word 

"Cadmus!" 

The  same  appeared  in  a  dozen  other  places,  running  up  and  down, 
into  the  corners  and  across  the  angles,  the  letters  formed  by  all  sorts 
of  unexpected  and  inexplicable  combinations.  I  have  always  prided 
myself  upon  my  penmanship;  but  I  looked  upon  that  triumph  of 
chirographic  wizardry  in  amazement  when  he  asked  me  to  give  it  to 
Mr.  Gauge. 

"  Can't  you  read  it?"  he  asked,  as  I  hesitated. 

"  Read  it,  sir !  It  is  the  most  wonderful  thing  I  ever  saw  !"  I  an 
swered,  heartily. 

"Well,  take  it  in,  then,"  he  said,  evidently  placated  by  my  ad 
miration. 

No  sooner  did  I  place  this  card  before  Mr.  Gauge  than  he  snatched 
it  from  me  and  ran  out  of  the  room,  paying  no  more  heed  to  my  presence 
than  if  I  had  been  an  automaton.  I  followed  him,  and  found  him  shaking 
the  stranger's  hand  while  he  held  up  the  unique  card  and  said, — 

"  See  here,  old  fellow,  do  you  scatter  such  things  around  everywhere 
you  go  ?" 

"  Had  to  do  it,"  said  the  other,  laughing,  "  to  get  by  your  young 
man  here.  He's  as  sharp  as  a  watch-dog.  Good  man  to  have  around. 
Stows  away  easy,  you  see,  and  will  be  worth  his  weight  in  gold, — if 
you  keep  him  long  enough  and  he  don't  take  to  growing." 

Laughing  at  his  own  jest,  he  disappeared  with  Mr.  Gauge.     A 


16  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

moment  later  the  waiter  brought  me  out  an  elegant  lunch,  which  I  con 
siderately  shared  with  the  office-boy.  This  was  my  first  introduction  to 
Professor  Cadmus  and  the  great  case  with  which  his  name  is  connected. 

An  hour  afterwards  the  chief  clerk  came  and  informed  me  that  Mr. 
Gauge  wished  to  see  me.  Pie  had  always  sent  the  office-boy  for  me 
before. 

"  Have  you  any  idea  what  the  old  man  wants  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Hasn't  Burrill  told  you  ?"  I  replied,  evasively. 

"Oh,  it  is  some  of  Burrill's  business,  is  it?"  said  the  head  clerk, 
with  a  sneer.  "I  wish  the  old  man  would  stop  doing  things  in 
that  way.  It  seems  as  if  he  would  never  get  used  to  modern  methods. 
It  isn't  fair.  Here  I  am  held  responsible  for  the  business  of  this 
office;  I  am  expected  to  know  where  everybody  is,  what  everybody 
is  doing,  and  what  there  is  to  be  done,  every  mortal  hour  of  every 
day  and  in  every  case ;  and  here  are  the  '  old  man'  and  Burrill,  and 
now,  it  seems,  you  too,  working  at  matters  I  know  nothing  of.  I 
vow,  it  is  too  bad  !" 

"  No  doubt  Mr.  Gauge  would  tell  you  if  you  should  ask  him,"  I 
responded,  sympathetically. 

"  Ask  him  !"  exclaimed  Bronson,  in  amazement.  "  Ask  the  '  old 
man'  what  he  is  doing?  I  declare,  Mr.  Fountain,  one  would  think 
you  were  born  yesterday.  Not  much  !  But  I  am  glad  you  suggested  it, 
all  the  same.  I  will  ask  him  to  what  account  I  am  to  charge  the  money 
for  your  expenses." 

I  went  with  him  into  Mr.  Gauge's  room.  Professor  Cadmus  was 
sitting  by  the  window,  gazing  out  upon  the  street.  Now  that  I  looked 
at  him  closely,  he  seemed  to  have  a  sort  of  rustic  air.  His  clothes 
were  well  enough,  but  they  had  evidently  seen  wear.  Any  man  who 
received  an  hour  of  Theophilus  Gauge's  time  was  worthy  of  attention, 
however,  and  I  nodded  pleasantly  to  him  as  I  caught  his  eye.  Bronson 
approached  Mr.  Gauge's  desk,  and  I  heard  him  ask  the  question  he  had 
determined  upon. 

"  Ah,  yes,"  said  the  Senior,  blandly.  "  Very  right,  Mr.  Bronson, 
very  right.  You  will  please  charge  it— to  my  personal  account." 

Bronson  turned  away  with  evident  disappointment,  and  Mr.  Gauge 
watched  him  until  he  had  left  the  room.  It  occurred  to  me  that  the 
senior  partner  did  not  altogether  like  his  chief  clerk ;  and  I  made  a 
note  of  the  fact  for  future  use.  Calling  me  to  his  desk,  Mr.  Gauge 


PEOFESSOE  CADMUS' 'S  GREAT  CASE.  17 

pointed  to  a  chair,  and  I  sat  down.     It  was  the  first  time  I  had  ever  been 
asked  to  do  so  by  one  of  the  partners. 

"  Mr.  Fountain,"  said  he,  "  I  want  you  to  accompany  Professor 
Cadmus,  assist  him,  and  take  notes  of  all  he  does  while  you  are  with 
him.  He  will  give  you  directions  which  you  will  of  course  obey ;  but 
I  want  to  know  what  he  may  not  think  of  asking  you  to  record.  He  is 
an  expert  in  handwriting.  The  papers  he  is  to  examine  are  in  this 
box,  of  which  Mr.  Burrill  will  give  you  the  key.  You  will  find  a  list 
of  its  contents  made  out  by  him,  and  each  paper  is  numbered  in  red 
ink  to  correspond  with  the  list.  You  will  keep  these  always  in  your 
possession,  under  no  circumstances  allowing  any  of  them  to  go  out  of 
your  control,  and  you  will  note  carefully  what  the  professor  does  with 
each,  being  especially  careful  that  no  acids  or  liquids  of  any  kind  are 
applied  to  any  part  of  the  written  portions.  You  will  enter  your  ob 
servations  each  day  in  this  book." 

He  handed  me  a  small  blank-book,  on  the  cover  of  which  he  had 
written 

«H.t».O.M 

"  Here  are  one  hundred  dollars  in  small  bills,  which  you  will  use 
for  necessary  expenses,  rendering  an  itemized  account  to  me.  If  you 
need  more,  let  me  know." 

He  paused  a  moment,  and  then  continued  : 

"  I  suppose  I  need  not  tell  you  that  the  matter  is  not  to  be  spoken 
of  to  any  one  but  myself.  You  will  leave  the  office  alone,  cross  to 
Jersey  City  and  buy  a  ticket  to  Philadelphia,  board  the  train,  but  get 
off  at  the  first  station,  return  to  the  city,  and  go  to  this  address,"  hand 
ing  me  a  card.  "  Professor  Cadmus  will  meet  you  there.  I  do  not 
know  that  such  precaution  is  necessary ;  but  the  matter  is  important. 
Cadmus  is  a  striking  figure,  and  may  be  followed.  You  will  remain 
with  him  until  he  dismisses  you." 

I  counted  the  bills  and  signified  my  readiness. 

"  Very  well,"  said  Mr.  Gauge,  meditatively,  adding  in  a  low  voice, 
"  Professor  Cadmus,  Mr.  Fountain  is  an  old  friend.  He  thinks  he  can 
help  us  in  this  matter ;  and  he  may  be  correct.  I  am  willing  to  try 
the  experiment,  as  much  for  his  own  sake  as  for  ours.  I  have  not 
much  faith  in  expert  testimony  myself, — especially  the  modern  refine 
ments  that  have  been  introduced.  To  my  mind  it  is  usually  '  the  sub 
stance  of  things  hoped  for,  and  the  evidence  of  things  not  seen.' >; 
2* 


18  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

I  testified  approval  of  his  jest,  though  I  well  knew  it  was  cribbed 
from  a  recent  work  on  Evidence.  He  continued  : 

"  He  might  as  well  earn  a  fee  in  the  case  as  any  one.  He  has  had 
bad  luck  in  his  time,  and  needs  all  he  can  get,  I  doubt  not.  By  the 
way,  Mr.  Fountain,  you  will  supply  him  with  whatever  he  requires  for 
the  investigation,  and  you  may  as  well  take  a  little  pains  to  make  it 
pleasant  for  him.  I  know  nothing  about  his  circumstances  just  now; 
but  do  not  hesitate  at  a  little  expense  for  entertainment,  only  keep  an 
accurate  account.  If  he  is  not  through  with  you  in  a  couple  of  weeks, 
you  may  report  to  me,  and  I  will  decide  what  shall  be  done.  Re 
member,  now,  be  watchful  and  accurate,  but  do  not  be  too  careful  of 
money.  Good-by." 

I  shook  hands  with  the  "  old  man"  for  the  first  time,  and  took  my 
leave.  The  Senior  was  not  an  "  old  man,"  though  he  had  borne  that 
title  for  twenty  years.  I  was  much  elated  at  being  selected  by  him  for 
his  special  work,  but  managed,  with  the  aid  of  gravity,  to  keep  myself 
on  the  earth  while  I  doubled  on  my  track  according  to  his  direc 
tions. 

On  reaching  the  address  given,  which  was  an  up-town  hotel,  a  man 
accosted  me  whom  I  did  not  at  first  recognize.  It  was  Professor  Cad 
mus,  without  his  beard,  moustache,  or  spectacles,  and  with  his  hair  cut 
short. 

"  Come,"  he  said ;  and  we  left  the  hotel  by  a  side-entrance,  where 
a  cab  in  waiting  took  us  to  another  d6p6t. 

"  I  haven't  had  a  bare  face  in  twenty-five  years  before,"  he  said, 
jocosely.  "  I  was  a  i  Forty-niner/  you  know,  and  no  more  thought  of 
shaving  than  of  decapitation  ;  but  I  saw  how  anxious  Gauge  was  to 
prevent  our  being  trailed,  and  so  bought  a  razor  and  took  it  off.  Then 
of  course  the  hair  had  to  come  too,  to  preserve  the  fitness  of  things. 
Zounds  !"  he  exclaimed,  "  I  realize  how  a  sheep  must  feel  after  being 
shorn." 

We  bought  tickets  for  New  Haven,  but  left  the  train  before  reaching 
that  city.  Nobody  else  alighted  at  the  station  where  we  stopped. 

"  Well,  thank  God,  we  are  off,  and  no  one  following  us,"  said  the 
professor,  noting  this  fact.  "  Now  I  hope  Gauge  will  rest  in  peace.  I 
don't  see  what  makes  him  so  suspicious.  I  don't  believe  he  trusts  me, 
nor  you,  nor  any  one  else, — unless  it  is  Swallow ;  and  I  doubt  if  one 
ever  saw  them  together  long  enough  to  know  how  they  feel  towards  each 
other." 


PROFESSOR  CADMUS'8  GREAT  CASE.  19 

I  laughed,  for  this  was  exactly  the  estimate  the  office  put  on  the  two 
men ;  only  the  office  knew  that  Mr.  Swallow  had  the  sense  to  let  his 
partner  pull  in  his  own  way,  well  knowing  that  it  meant  the  joint  wel 
fare,  whether  he  was  consulted  at  each  step  or  not.  We  used  to  say  that 
Mr.  Gauge  managed  the  cases  and  Mr.  Swallow  managed  the  clients. 

"  There  is  no  sense  in  his  suspicions, — not  a  whit,"  continued  the 
professor,  in  an  aggrieved  tone,  feeling  his  purple  chin  as  he  spoke. 
"  Here  I  have  sacrificed  a  beard  and  moustache  I  wouldn't  have  taken 
a  fortune  for,  just  to  humor  his  whimsicality.  I  don't  suppose  my  wife 
will  let  me  in,  and  Fll  bet  a  dollar  my  dog  will  bark  at  me." 

Sure  enough,  the  dog  did  bark  at  him  when  we  reached  the  gate  of 
a  comfortable-looking  house  standing  a  little  back  from  the  street  and 
half  hidden  by  overhanging  elms;  but  the  wife,  who  met  us  in  the 
hall,  only  put  her  arms  akimbo  on  her  ample  hips  and  exclaimed,  amid 
her  laughter, — 

"  Why,  Cadmus  !     What — have — you  been  doing  ?" 

"  Don't  say  a  word,  my  dear,"  said  the  professor,  blandly.  "  This 
is  Mr.  Fountain.  Don't  let  him  know  I've  been  a  fool,  please." 

The  good  lady  composed  her  face  and  gave  me  a  welcome  which  did 
not  lose  its  heartiness  while  I  remained  in  her  house.  I  thought  with 
a  smile  that  night,  as  we  sat  at  the  supper-table, — the  professor,  his 
wife,  and  their  one  child,  a  daughter  just  entering  womanhood, — what 
would  be  Mr.  Gauge's  surprise  if  he  could  see  us.  I  learned  afterwards 
that  the  professor  had  once  been  a  man  of  considerable  wealth,  which 
he  had  lost  in  an  unfortunate  speculation,  and,  having  ceased  to  be 
opulent,  the  Senior  evidently  came  to  the  conclusion  that  he  was  in 
actual  want. 

"  After  all,"  said  the  professor,  when  we  were  at  work  the  next  day, 
"  it  was  kind  of  Gauge  to  give  me  a  chance  at  this.  He  knows  I've 
always  wanted  a  fair  hack  at  a  tough  case ;  and  I  vow  I  guess  I've  got 
it  this  time.  You  know  the  facts,  I  suppose  ?" 

"  Not  a  word,"  I  responded,  frankly. 

"  So  !  Another  instance  of  Gauge's  silly  over-caution.  I  wonder 
how  long  it  will  be  before  it  grows  out,"  he  added,  ruefully  stroking  his 
chin,  the  Senior's  caution  suggesting  the  loss  of  his  beard.  "  Well,  I 
suppose  if  he  wanted  you  to  know  he  would  have  told  you, — about  the 
case,  I  mean,"  he  continued,  absently,  for  his  eyes  were  wandering  over 
a  curious  array,  and  he  was  beginning  a  singular  investigation. 

The  contents  of  the  tin  box  I  had  brought  proved  to  be  a  note 


20  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

for  a  large  amount  of  money,  signed,  in  a  curiously  uncertain  hand, 
"  James  M.  Oliver,"  with  several  hundred  cancelled  checks,  and  a  few 
letters,  mostly  addressed  to  our  firm,  bearing  the  same  name,  written 
with  a  boldness  that  would  have  done  credit  to  the  celebrated  President 
of  the  first  Continental  Congress.  These  we  had  taken  out  one  by 
one,  I  checking  each  upon  the  list  as  we  did  so.  The  note  was  care 
fully  pinned  on  a  little  stand  having  an  inclined  top  like  a  reading-desk, 
and  covered  with  dark  neutral-tinted  paper,  through  which  a  small  hole 
was  cut  exposing  the  signature  to  view.  The  same  was  done  with  the 
others,  except  that  they  were  pinned  on  an  inclined  blackboard,  one 
above  the  other,  and  covered  in  like  manner  except  the  signatures. 
The  blackboard  was  then  placed  at  one  side  of  a  window  having  a 
northern  exposure,  the  end  towards  it  and  a  little  way  from  it  and  facing 
the  reading-desk  on  the  other  side.  The  lower  half  of  the  shutter  being 
closed,  a  flood  of  clear  calm  light  fell  upon  both  from  above.  I  assisted 
in  making  these  arrangements  with  great  interest,  wondering  what 
would  next  be  done.  When  they  were  completed  the  professor  began 
to  walk  back  and  forth  between  desk  and  blackboard,  glancing  care 
lessly  first  upon  one  side  and  then  upon  the  other,  talking  about  every 
thing  except  the  signatures,  and  apparently  paying  little  heed  to  my 
replies.  Now  and  then,  indeed,  he  would  recall  what  I  had  said  some 
time  before,  and  proceed  to  discourse  upon  it  as  if  I  had  uttered  nothing 
since. 

I  sat  and  watched  him.  The  other  shutters  were  closed,  so  that  the 
great  front  chamber  of  the  old  country  house  was  in  shadow  save  where 
the  light  fell  upon  the  dark  neutral  expanse  dotted  with  oval  apertures 
through  which  showed  the  glaring  signatures.  Sometimes  he  would 
turn  the  one  upon  the  right  or  those  upon  the  left  more  or  less  to  the 
light.  Again  he  would  entirely  cover  the  one  and  continue  his  cease 
less  walk  with  bent-down  head  before  the  others.  I  noticed  that  he 
never  paused  more  than  an  instant, — never  used  a  glass  or  made  what 
I  should  call  a  careful  scrutiny  or  comparison.  When  we  first  took 
them  from  the  box,  he  had,  it  is  true,  carefully  examined  the  note  with 
a  lens,  and  had  applied  the  same  rapidly  to  some  of  the  others,  choosing, 
I  noted  afterwards,  signatures  of  different  dates. 
By  and  by  my  task  began  to  grow  tedious. 

"Have  you  any  objection  to  telling  me  why  you  do  this?"   I 
asked. 

"  None  in  the  world.     I  am  getting  acquainted  with  them." 


PROFESSOR  CADMUS' S  GREAT  CASE.  21 

"  I  should  think  you  would  make  better  progress  to  study  each  one 
separately  and  deliberately." 

"  You  would,  eh  ?     Is  your  mother  alive  ?" 

"  Yes ;  at  least  she  was  a  few  days  ago." 

"  Think  you  would  know  her  if  you  should  see  her  ?" 

"  Why,  certainly." 

"  Even  if  you  should  meet  her  unexpectedly  ?" 

"  Of  course,  and  as  far  off  as  I  could  see  her,  too." 

"  No  doubt.     Did  you  ever  study  her  face  ?" 

"  Not  that  I  remember." 

"  Ever  observe  her  figure  carefully  ?" 

"  Do  not  think  I  ever  did." 

"  Nor  her  gait  ?" 

"  Not  as  I  recollect." 

"  Does  she  toe  in  ?" 


"  No,  sir,"  positively. 
"Certain  of  it?" 


"  Of  course,"  very  emphatically. 

"  Swear  to  it?" 

"  Any  time,  sir,"  almost  angrily. 

"  How  did  you  gain  this  knowledge  ?" 

"Well,  really,  I  don't  know." 

"I  do  :  it  was  by  glances, — viewing  her  at  every  possible  angle,  you 
see, — while  you  thought  of  something  else,  day  after  day,  and  year  after 
year.  That  is  the  way  I  am  acquainting  myself  with  these  signatures ; 
and  that  is  why  I  want  somebody  here  to  talk  with, — -just  to  keep  me  from 
analyzing  and  comparing  one  with  another  at  this  stage  of  my  investiga 
tion.  It  will  be  time  enough  for  that  when  I  know  them  thoroughly." 

"  Have  you  any  objection  to  my  looking  at  them  a  little  closer  ?" 

"  Not  in  the  least,  if  you  do  not  talk  to  me  about  them.  I  must 
make  up  my  own  mind,  you  see." 

I  went  and  stood  a  moment  by  the  little  stand,  gazing  at  the  weak 
straggling  signature  upon  it,  and  then  glanced  over  the  array  of  firm, 
bold  autographs  on  the  great  blackboard. 

The  contrast  was  so  striking  that  I  could  not  help  exclaiming, — 

"I  should  think  you  would  have  no  difficulty  in  deciding  this  to  be 
a  forgery  :  it  is  evident  at  a  glance." 

"  Suppose  the  problem  was  to  prove  it  not  a  forgery  ?" 

"What?" 


22  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

"  That  is  exactly  what  I  am  to  do — if  I  can.  You  see,  I  am  not 
an  expert  in  the  proper  sense  of  the  term.  I  am  what  ought  to  be 
termed  a  technical  advocate.  If  I  make  up  my  mind  that  this  is  not  a 
forgery,  I  am  to  give  reasons  that  will  incline  other  minds  the  same 
way.  If  I  do  not  make  up  my  mind  that  way,  I  am  to  keep  still.  I 
suppose  that  is  the  reason  Gauge  is  anxious  that  no  one  should  know 
the  matter  has  been  submitted  to  me." 

I  began  to  see  the  rationale  of  some  of  my  instructions.  This  con 
tinued  for  some  days,  two  or  three  hours  at  a  time  in  the  morning  and 
as  many  more  in  the  afternoon.  The  rest  of  the  time  I  spent  with  the ' 
professor  or  his  daughter  rambling  about  the  hills  back  of  the  village, 
and  in  the  evening  we  played  whist.  But  for  these  recreations  I  should 
have  weaned  of  the  monotony  of  my  task. 

The  paraphernalia  of  the  examination  was  in  the  room  assigned  me 
as  a  bedchamber,  .which  included  the  whole  front  half  of  the  house  on 
the  second  floor.  Whenever  we  went  out,  at  the  professor's  suggestion, 
I  covered  all  the  signatures  with  fresh  sheets  of  what  was  then  termed 
envelope-paper, — a  strong  buff  paper  which  came  in  large  sheets  very 
convenient  for  such  use, — sealing  them  at  the  edges  with  my  private 
seal,  a  quaint  cornelian  intaglio  which  I  have  worn  for  many  years.  I 
also  locked  the  room  and  put  my  seal  on  the  door.  I  did  the  same, 
too,  on  retiring. 

Upon  the  morning  of  the  fifth  day  the  professor  said, — 

"  Well,  I  guess  I  am  acquainted  with  them  now.  I  don't  believe 
I  should  miss  them  anywhere.  Look  here  1" 

He  drew  a  chair  to  the  table  beside  me,  and,  taking  a  pen,  ran  down 
a  sheet  of  paper,  writing  without  hesitation  one  after  the  other, — first 
the  weak  signature  and  then  the  strong, — so  accurately  that  when  I 
took  the  page  and  compared  it  with  the  originals  standing  between  them 
I  could  not  detect  the  slightest  difference,  and  so  stated. 

"  Yet  you  are  a  fair  penman,"  said  the  professor,  complacently,  "and 
as  good  a  judge  of  the  matter  as  most  of  those  who  are  usually  termed 
experts.  Now,  I  could  point  out  in  five  minutes  a  dozen  things  which 
should  prove  conclusively  not  only  that  the  same  man  did  not  write 
them  but  could  not  have  written  them.  Indeed,  that  is  the  basis  of  the 
science  of  chirograph ic  comparison.  There  really  is  no  such  thing  as 
counterfeiting  another's  signature.  Every  man  puts  himself  into  his 
handwriting ;  and  the  business  of  the  scientific  expert  is  to  get  at  his 
identity  from  the  traces  he  leaves.  It  can  always  be  done,  and  done 


PROFESSOR  CADMUS'S  GREAT  CASE.  23 

with  absolute  certainty,  too,  if  skill  and  time  and  brain  enough  are 
applied  to  the  task." 

"  I  suppose  a  man  is  always  the  best  judge  of  his  own  handwriting," 
I  remarked. 

"  Not  at  all.  Indeed,  the  most  skilful  man  may  easily  forget  his 
own  work.  I  remember  once  finding  a  stanza  written  in  an  album  that 
lay  upon  the  centre-table  at  a  country  inn.  I  thought  it  exceedingly 
well  done,  and,  after  copying  it  once  or  twice,  took  it  to  the  landlord 
and  asked  him  who  did  it.  He  told  me  a  young  man  on  his  way  West 
had  stopped  at  his  house,  then  in  another  State,  and  written  the  stanza 
at  his  daughter's  request.  He  had  a  queer  name,  which  the  landlord 
had  forgotten.  He  would  call  his  wife,  he  said ;  perhaps  she  would 
remember.  There  was  no  need,  I  told  him:  the  name  was  Cadmus, — 
as  indeed  it  was,  but  a  Cadmus  of  twenty-five  years  before,  whom  I 
conld  only  have  re-created  by  study  of  his  work  if  the  landlord  had  not 
helped  me  with  the  suggestion  of  time  and  place.  I  recognized,  no 
doubt,  a  familiar  hand,  but  could  not  locate  it.  It  is  so  with  this,  too. 
I  seem  to  have  known  it  before  somewhere  and  at  some  time  which  I 
cannot  yet  designate. 

He  gazed  with  a  perplexed  look  at  the  contrasted  signatures. 

"  Did  you  ever  have  a  face  follow  you  around  for  days,  claiming 
recognition — location?  That  is  the  way  with  this — I  mean  these 
signatures.  They  are  written  all  over  space  to  me  now.  If  I  close  my 
eyes  the  whole  orb  of  which  I  am  the  centre  seems  covered  with  those 
intermingled  forms,  all  appealing  to  my  memory  for  some  associated 
idea.  But  I  can't  get  hold  of  it.  That  is  what  has  been  troubling  me 
all  this  time. 

"  But  now  we  will  get  on  to  the  next  stage.  It  is  needless  to  ex 
amine  ink  or  paper.  The  contested  signature  is  in  the  same  ink  as  the 
bulk  of  the  admitted  ones."  He  glanced  over  them  with  the  lens  as  he 
spoke,  as  if  to  make  sure  of  his  conclusion.  He  stood  silent  for  a  time 
with  knotted  brows,  and  then  exclaimed,  "  I  wish  I  knew  the  man  that 
answers  to  that  name ;  and  yet  I  am  glad  I  do  not.  I  believe  I  can 
almost  see  him." 

"  You  think  they  are  all  written  by  one  person,  then  ?" 

"  That  is  what  I  am  going  to  find  out,"  he  said,  with  a  smile.  "  Now 
we  will  go  and  photograph  them." 

This  was  not  so  simple  a  matter  as  it  is  now  when  amateur  photog 
raphy  is  a  disease  common  to  so  many ;  but  I  found  the  professor  pre- 


24  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

pared  for  it.  I  myself  carried  the  note  in  question  to  the  room  he  had 
fitted  up  for  such  purposes,  and  he  made  me  measure  carefully  the 
angles  at  which  the  views  were  taken,  "  because,"  he  said,  ^  a  photo 
graph  may  be  made  to  lie  almost  as  easily  as  a  fool." 

After  that  he  took  views  of  some  of  the  others  which  I  chose  at 
random,  taking  care  that  they  were  made  at'the  same  angles  and  under 
the  same  conditions.  On  the  next  day  they  were  finished  and  mounted, 
and  I  returned  to  the  city  with  copies  in  my  possession.  I  had  been 
absent  from  the  office  just  a  week  when  I  made  my  report  to  Mr.  Gauge, 
and  rendered  an  itemized  account  of  expenses  amounting  to  less  than 
ten  dollars.  I  flatter  myself  this  made  a  good  impression  on  the  "  old 
man,"  but  he  said  nothing  about  it,  at  the  time. 

The  case  of  Haskell  vs.  Oliver  came  on  for  trial  before  a  referee  a 
few  weeks  afterwards.  It  was  based  on  a  note  for  seventeen  thousand 
five  hundred  dollars,  purporting  to  have  been  given  by  James  M. 
Oliver  to  Martin  Hodge,  and  by  him  assigned  for  value  before  maturity, 
to  Charles  Haskell.  The  execution  of  the  note  was  denied.  The 
reference  was  held  in  the  luxurious  offices  of  Hyde  &  Tanner,  the 
senior  partner  of  which  firm  was  the  referee.  I  was  subpoenaed  for  the 
plaintiff,  and  attended  Mr.  Swallow,  carrying  the  same  tin  box  I  had 
watched  over  at  the  professor's. 

The  plaintiff  was  a  blonde  young  man  from  Michigan,  a  lumber- 
dealer,  who  testified  that  he  received  the  note  in  due  course  of  business. 
He  did  not  know  Mr.  Hodge,  except  by  correspondence.  Had  heard 
that  he  was  dead.^  The  note  being  protested,  he  had  paid  it  and  came 
on  and  presented  it  personally  to  the  defendant,  who  refused  to  acknow 
ledge  it.  He  had  seen  Mr.  Oliver's  signature,  and  believed  this  to  be 
his, — had  no  doubt  of  it,  in  fact.  On  cross-examination  he  stated 
carelessly  that  his  business  amounted  to  several  hundred  thousand  dol 
lars  a  year,  and  he  judged  Mr.  Oliver's  signature  as  he  would  that  of 
any  other  man  he  had  seen  write  and  had  correspondence  with.  Did 
not  remember  that  he  had  ever  seen  Mr.  Oliver  until  his  refusal  to  pay 
the  note.  Had  seen  his  writing  several  times  before.  Did  not  pretend 
to  be  expert  enough  to  tell  why  he  believed  the  signature  genuine. 

This  was  our  case.  Mr.  Swallow  chuckled  complacently  as  he  an 
nounced  that  we  would  rest,  thus  throwing  the  onus  entirely  upon  the 
defendant,  who  had  to  sustain  his  affirmative  plea.  It  was  evidently  a 


PROFESSOR  CADMUS'S  GREAT  CASE.  25 

surprise  to  the  defence.  So  it  was  to  me;  for  I  did  not  think  any  man 
would  have  sworn  so  positively  to  the  essential  fact. 

Mr.  Oliver  was  the  first  witness  for  the  defence.  He  denied  the 
signature  and  all  knowledge  of  the  note.  There  was  a  squabble  as  to 
whether  he  could  testify  that  he  had  never  given  a  note  to  Hodge,  under 
the  celebrated  section  in  regard  to  "transactions  with,  or  declarations  of, 
a  deceased  party,"  of  our  code :  Mr.  Swallow  contending  that  if  the 
witness  had  a  right  to  deny  any  transactions  with  a  deceased  person  he 
had  a  right  to  describe  any  he  might  have  had,  which  the  statute  plainly 
forbids.  The  referee  admitted  the  testimony,  and  Mr.  Swallow  took  an 
exception.  Mr.  Oliver  said  he  had  never  known  Mr.  Hodge,  who  he 
understood  had  been  a  master-builder,  and  never  had  any  occasion  to 
give  him  a  note,  and  never  had  given  him  one. 

The  defendant  was  a  large,  positive  man,  with  gray  side-whiskers, 
full-faced,  with  sharp  thin  lips.  He  was  a  man  of  the  highest  character 
in  business  and  society,  worth  more  than  a  million,  it  was  said,  and  was 
evidently  angry  at  the  idea  that  he  would  deny  his  own  act  for  such  a 
paltry  sum  as  that  named  in  the  note.  He  was  not  going  to  be  imposed 
on,  he  said,  by  any  rascal,  dead  or  alive.  Mr.  Swallow  took  no  exception 
either  to  his  language  or  his  manner,  but  rose  with  a  smile  to  cross- 
examine. 

Professor  Cadmus,  sprucely  dressed  and  clean-shaven,  sat  carelessly 
looking  on  a  few  feet  away.  1  hardly  knew  him,  even  after  our  week's 
association,  so  greatly  had  he  changed  since  our  first  meeting.  Mr. 
Swallow  asked  me  to  hand  the  witness  the  contents  of  the  box,  in  the 
order  in  which  they  were  numbered  in  the  list;  while  he  smilingly 
asked  if  each  signature  was  genuine.  There  was  some  bickering  as  to 
this  method  of  proceeding,  but  the  referee  allowed  it,  and  the  defence 
excepted.  Other  witnesses — cashiers,  tellers,  and  parties  familiar 
by  daily  observation  with  the  defendant's  signature — declared  the 
note  an  obvious  forgery.  My  heart  sank.  Nothing  could  hurt  me 
worse  then  than  to  have  Gauge  &  Swallow  beaten, — especially  in  that 
case.  Still,  Mr.  Swallow  smiled  and  Professor  Cadmus  seemed  pro 
foundly  indifferent  to  all  that  was  going  on.  Finally  the  defence 
closed,  and  the  case  was  adjourned  until  the  next  day. 

The  next  morning  the  office  was  crowded  with  legal  luminaries  and 

men  eminent  in  business-circles.    A  slip  professing  to  show  a  fac-simile 

of  the  admitted  and  'disputed  signatures  had   gotten  into  circulation. 

The  evidence  had  been  published  in  the  morning  papers.     It  was  con- 

3  B 


'2(5  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

siclered  remarkable  that  Gauge  &  Swallow  should  press  for  judgment 
in  the  face  of  such  discrepancy,  since  it  was  not  .deemed  possible  that 
they  intended  to  attack  the  testimony  of  one  who  stood  so  high  in  busi 
ness,  the  church,  and  society  as  Mr.  Oliver,  with  such  odds  of  proba 
bility  against  them. 

As  soon  as  the  referee  had  taken  his  seat  and  the  case  was  called,  a 
large  portfolio  which  looked  like  a  set  of  maps  was  brought  in,  and  a 
light  rod,  with  numerous  hooks  upon  it,  stretched  across  the  side  of  the 
office  back  of  the  referee.  Then  Mr.  Swallow,  in  his  blandest  accents, 
called  Professor  Cadmus,  and  every  one  in  the  room  craned  his  neck 
about  to  get  sight  of  the  witness,  who  he  was  nobody  seemed  to  know. 
The  defendant's  counsel  scanned  him  closely  as  he  was  sworn  and  took 
his  scat.  One  of  them  leaned  towards  their  client  with  a  whispered 
interrogatory.  He  shook  his  head,  but  did  not  remove  his  eyes  from 
the  witness's  face.  Mr.  Swallow  read  his  questions  from  a  memo 
randum, — a  thing  I  have  hardly  ever  known  him  to  do  since  that  time. 
The  answers  were  like  light  electric  shocks,  sending  little  thrills  through 
everybody  in  the  room.  At  first  the  witness  kept  his  eyes  on  the 
defendant ;  then  they  wandered  from  his  face  to  the  work  he  was 
explaining,  as  if  seeking  to  make  clear  the  demonstration  to  him  alone. 

"  Are  you  acquainted  with  James  M.  Oliver  ?" 

"The  defendant,  you  mean?" 

"  Certainly,"  said  Mr.  Swallow,  with  perceptible  surprise. 

I  thought  the  defendant's  lips  set  a  little  closer  together  and  his  gray 
eyes  took  on  a  harder  look. 

"  I  am,"  said  the  witness,  smiling  quietly. 

"  How  long  have  you  known  him  ?" 

"  About  thirty-five  years." 

The  lips  grew  a  little  whiter,  but  the  set  face  did  not  show  the 
quiver  of  a  muscle.  The  answer  stirred  a  buzz  of  inquiry  about  the 
room.  It  was  evident  that  not  many  there  had  known  the  defendant 
so  long. 

"Are  you  acquainted  with  his  handwriting?" 

"lam." 

"  Do  you  think  you  would  know  his  signature?" 

"  I  have  no  doubt  of  it." 

"  On  what  is  your  knowledge  of  his  handwriting  based?" 

"On  having  examined  several  hundred  of  his  admitted  signa 
tures " 


PBOFESSOR   CADMUS' S  GREAT  CASE.  27 

Here  an  objection  was  raised.  There  was  a  little  wrangling.  I  was 
called  to  the  stand  to  identify  the  signatures  admitted  by  the  defendant 
the  day  before.  Still  there  was  objection. 

"Have  you  any  other  knowledge  of  his  signature?"  asked  Mr. 
Swallow,  not  looking  at  his  memorandum,  and  in  evident  perplexity. 
The  question  as  to  the  admissibility  of  such  expert  knowledge  was  not 
as  fully  settled  then  as  now. 

^ "  I  was  about  to  add,"  said  the  witness,  "  that  I  have  often  seen  him 
write,  and  have  learned  to  know  his  signature  in  the  ordinary  course  of 
business." 

"  What  is  your  occupation  ?" 

"I  am  a  teacher  of  penmanship  and  a  student  of  chirography." 

A  titter  passed  through  the  audience,  and  the  hint  of  a  smile  curved 
the  set  lips  of  the  defendant.  The  doubt  and  uncertainty  in  his  gray 
eyes  increased,  however. 

"  I  suppose  you  taught  him  to  write  ?"  interrupted  the  counsel  for 
the  defendant. 

"  On  the  contrary,  he  taught  me — a  great  many  things"  said  the 
professor,  with  deliberate  emphasis. 

"  Don't  interrupt,  gentlemen.  You  will  have  a  chance  to  cross- 
examine,"  said  the  referee. 

"I  don't  think  we  shall  need  it,"  answered  one  of  them,  with  a 
yawn,  which  was  a  professional  trick. 

"In  that  case,"  said  Swallow,  with  his  usual  chuckle,  "my  brother 
will  have  all  the  more  time  for  a  nap  when  we  are  through." 
Proceed,  proceed,"  said  the  referee,  impatiently.  ' 

"Will  you  examine  that?"  said  Mr.  Swallow,  handing  the  witness 
the  contested  note.  Professor  Cadmus  put  on  his  glasses  and  glanced 
at  it  sharply. 

"  I  have  already  done  so,  very  thoroughly." 

"  Will  you  please  state  the  opinion  at  which  you  have  arrived  as  to 
its  authenticity  ?" 

"  It  is  unquestionably — genuine" 

The  answer  was  given  in  a  quiet  voice,  with  a  little  pause  before  the 
last  word,  making  it  especially  emphatic. 

"And  now,  Professor  Cadmus,  will  you  please  explain  to  the  court 
your  method  of  examination  and  the  reasons  you  have  for  believing  this 
to  be  the  genuine  signature  of  the  defendant  ?" 

"  With  the  permission  of  the  court,"  said  the  professor,  rising,  "  I 


28  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

will  hang  up  here  some  charts  I  have  prepared,  and  then  proceed  to 
show  their  application  to  the  matter  in  hand." 

Without  waiting  for  a  reply,  he  proceeded  to  arrange  a  set  of  charts, 
nearly  a  yard  square,  upon  which  exact  fac-similes  of  the  acknowledged 
and  contested  signatures  appeared  in  white  upon  a  dark  background. 
On  some  of  them  there  were  lines  and  figures  showing  slopes  and  dis 
tances.  Up  to  that  time  it  was  the  most  elaborate  display  of  the  kind 
ever  made.  It  was,  I  believe,  the  first  time  photography  was  used  for 
this  purpose.  After  explaining  how  these  were  made,  and  naming  the 
precise  distances  and  angles  at  which  they  were  taken,  the  professor 
proceeded  : 

"  Handwriting  is  just  as  distinctive  as  the  countenance  of  the  indi 
vidual  who  makes  it.  It  may  be  disguised  or  imitated,  but  if  closely 
enough  scrutinized  the  essential  features  can  always  be  detected.  Certain 
elements  are  essential  to  every  man's  chirography.  These  are  fixed  by 
habit  or  temperament.  They  may  be  modified  by  time  and  circum 
stances,  but  never  wholly  disappear.  Others,  like  the  expression  of 
one's  features,  are  almost  entirely  under  the  control  of  the  will.  That 
no  two  men's  handwriting  is  exactly  alike  is  a  trite  saying,  but  I  have 
discovered  and  will  show  the  court  that,  while  the  signature  in  question 
differs  very  greatly  from  the  one  which  the  defendant  is  accustomed  to 
make,  the  variations  are  of  a  non-essential  or  accidental  character. 

"  I  dismiss  the  theory  of  forgery,  because  this  is  not  a  case  of  ap 
parent  imitation.  The  contested  signature  has  not  been  traced  nor 
patched  nor  any  effort  used  to  make  it  resemble  the  admitted  originals. 
That  is,  in  smoothness,  strength,  and  shading — the  expression,  so  to 
speak,  of  the  signature — it  is  entirely  unlike  the  admitted  genuine  ones. 
As  you  will  see  by  this  enlargement,  however," — pointing  to  his  charts, 
— "  the  slope  and  distance  of  the  letters  from  each  other,  and  the  distances 
between  the  words,  are  very  nearly  the  same  in  both. 

"  The  imitation  of  handwriting,  like  chirography  itself,  proceeds  on 
purely  natural  principles.  The  counterfeiter's  object  is  to  deceive.  He 
therefore  makes  an  imitation  that  to  the  unpractised  eye  looks  like  the 
genuine.  Now,  there  are  certain  things  that  every  one  notices  about 
handwriting.  Shade,  curve,  and  general  expression  are  among  these. 
If  I  write  my  own  name,  as  on  this  .card,  shading  heavily  the  bottoms 
of  the  short  letters,  most  people  will  insist  that  it  is  entirely  dissimilar 
to  this,  where  only  the  upper  horizontal  strokes  are  shaded.  Yet  they 
are,  with  this  single  exception,  identical,  or  as  nearly  so  as  I  can  make 


PROFESSOR   CADMUS' S  GREAT  CASE.  29 

them.     Slope,  distance,  and  character  remain ;   and  these  are  the  essen 
tials  of  my  handwriting. 

"  The  fact  is,  we  see  shade,  curve,  and,  if  it  is  very  pronounced 
slope.  They  make  what  may  be  termed  the  external  aspect— the  ex 
pression—of  handwriting.  But  we  learn  only  by  study,  test,  and  com 
parison,  distance,  ordinary  slope,  and  the  character  "of  stroke,— the 
motions  of  which  it  is  composed,  how  much  of  it  comes  from  the 
wrist  and  how  much  from  the  fingers  and  thumb.  This  never  chancres 
except  when  the  pen  is  held  in  some  peculiar  position,  as  between  die 
fingers. 

'  You  will  see  at  once  that  the  signature  in  question  was  made  at 
one  effort ;  that  is,  it  was  written  from  beginning  to  end  by  one  im 
pulse  of  the  writer's  will.  There  is  no  change  of  direction,  slope,  or 
character.  You  will  also  see  that  all  the  important  curves  of  this  and 
the  admitted  signatures  are  identical.  I  have  eliminated  them  from 
each,  and  you  have  them  side  by  side  in  this  chart.  It  is  made  by 
covering  the  other  parts  of  each  and  photographing  those  I  wish  to 
call  to  your  attention.  I  have  treated  the  slopes  in  the  same  manner, 
as  you  will  see  in  this  plate.  From  these  investigations  I  conclude 
that  the  contested  signature  differs  from  the  ordinary  signature  of  the 
defendant  very  noticeably  in  its  apparent  characteristics,  and  agrees 
with  it  very  strikingly  in  all  the  essential*  which  are  least  likely  to  be 
noticed  or  imitated. 

"  I  suppose  these  would  pass  as  very  good  imitations  of  the  de 
fendant's  admitted  signature." 

The  professor  handed  to  the  referee  and  the  counsel  a  number  of 
cards,  which  were  quickly  passed  about  the  room.  The  resemblance 
was  wonderful. 

'  Yet  here  is  an  enlargement  of  this  imitation,  and  of  the  curves, 
slopes,  and  distances  which  constitute  its  skeleton  and  determine  its  real 
character.  One  can  easily  perceive,  by  these,  how  little  relation  it 
really  bears  to  the  genuine." 

"  What  is  your  opinion  as  to  the  cause  of  this  difference  between 
two  originals  ?"  asked  Mr.  Swallow. 

"  It  is  hard  to  say,"  responded  the  professor.  "  The  physical  or 
mental  condition  of  the  writer ;  the  character  of  the  pen,  ink,  or  paper 
used  ;  the  slope  or  unsteadiness  of  the  desk, — any  or  all  of  these  com 
bined  might  produce  such  or  similar  results.  I  do  not  know,"  he  said, 
with  a  keen  glance  at  the  defendant,  "  anything  about  the  habits  of  the 

o* 


30  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

defendant,— at  least  of  late  years,— but  I  am  inclined  to  the  belief  that 
when  he  wrote  this  signature  he  was  in  a  recumbent  position,  that  the 
surface  of  the  paper  sloped  sharply  towards  him,  that  the  desk  or  sup 
porting  surface  was  not  entirely  stable,  and  that  he  was^  under  some 
unusual  mental  disturbance, — such  as  intoxication,  or  the  like." 

He  went  on  to  give  his  reasons  for  this  belief  with  a  lucidity  and 
readiness  that  carried  conviction  to  every  hearer.  The  audience  was 
breathless.  The  counsel  for  the  defence  had  long  since  ceased  to  take 
notes,  and  only  looked  on  in  amazement.  Even  Mr.  Swallow  forgot  to 
chuckle  at  the  indications  of  success,  and  watched  his  witness  with  a 
curious  puzzled  look  upon  his  face. 

Only  the  defendant  was  unmoved.  The  gray  eyes  burned  steadily. 
The  left  hand  held  the  right  glove  placidly  between  the  first  and  second 
finger.  There  was  not  a  quaver  about  the  firm,  straight  mouth.  ^  He 
was  a  noted  temperance  man  ;  but  the  allusion  to  his  mental  condition 
did  not  bring  a  smile.  I  was  watching  him,  admiring  his  self-control, 
and  had  even  begun  to  doubt  the  professor's  theories,  when  I  saw  an  in 
describable  spasm  pass  over  his  face.  At  the  same  time,  his  eyes  swept 
swiftly  around  the  room,  as  if  seeking  a  means  of  escape,  while  his 
hand  tightened  its  grasp  on  the  heavy  ebony  cane,  as  if  he  felt  impelled 
to  use  it  as  a  weapon. 

Turning  to  see  what  had  caused  this  transformation,  I  perceived 
that  the  professor  had  spread  out  two  charts  which  contained  enlarged 
representations  of  the  concluding  parts  of  a  will.  Both  were  signed 
"  James  Manderson."  Only  the  final  letters  of  the  witnesses'  names 
were  visible. 

"I  present  these  plates,"  the  professor  was  saying,  "merely  to 
show  how  the  condition  of  mind  and  body  may  affect  the  appearance 
of  handwriting  without  destroying  its  character.  Witnesses  of  the  very 
highest  character  testified  that  the  same  hand  wrote  both  of  these  within 
a  month  of  each  other.  I  havfc  eliminated  the  structural  elements  in 
these,  as  in  the  hypothetical  case,  and  you  will  see  how  closely  they 
resemble  each  other  in  essential  character." 

I  thought  there  was  something  like  a  threat  in  his  concluding 
words.  Every  one  could  see  a  striking  resemblance  between  one  of  the 
signatures  to  that  of  the  contested  bond  and  between  the  other  and  the 
admitted  signatures  of  the  defendant.  His  counsel  sprang  instantly  to 
their  feet  with  an  objection.  Mr.  Swallow  conceded  after  ^a  little  that 
the  concluding  portion  of  the  witness's  testimony  was  inadmissible. 


PROFESSOR  CADMUS' S  GREAT  CASE.  31 

There  was  a  fire  in  the  professor's  eye  as  lie  folded  up  his  charts  and 
took  his  seat  that  I  had  never  seen  before.  It  was  no  wonder.  He 
had  won  a  great  triumph.  He  could  charge  what  he  chose  as  an 
expert  on  penmanship  henceforth. 

While  the  lawyers  were  wrangling,  the  defendant,  with  flashed  face 
and  trembling  hands,  had  thrown  down  his  cane,  and,  after  groping 
hurriedly  in  his  pocket,  drew  forth  a  small  russia-leather-covered  mem 
orandum-book,  which  he  hastily  consulted,  and  then  sprang  to  his  feet, 
extending  his  ungloved  right  hand  towards  his  counsel,  as  if  to  command 
silence. 

"  Will  the  court  allow  me  to  look  at  that  note  again?" 

Mr.  Swallow  passed  it  over  to  him,  and  watched  him  keenly  as  he 
read  it. 

"  The  witness  is  correct,  sir,"  he  said,  after  a  moment's  scrutiny  and 
in  a  tone  of  positive  relief.  "  It  is  my  note.  I  recall  all  the  circum 
stances  of  it  now.  On  the  18th  of  November,  when  it  is  dated,  I  came 
home  from  business  early,  and  was  lying  on  the  lounge  in  my  private 
room,  feeling  very  unwell, — so  unwell,  in  fact,  that  I  was  unable  to  leave 
my  house  for  a  fortnight  afterwards.  I  now  recall  that  an  architect  who 
had  been  doing  some  work  for  me  came  and  said  he  was  hard  pushed 
for  a  considerable  sum, — I  forget  how  much.  I  did  not  have  the  money 
on  hand,  and  he  said  a  note  would  do  as  well,  as  he  could  use  it  with 
some  of  his  creditors.  I  think  there  was  something  said  about  making 
it  payable  to  some  one  else, — perhaps  Mr.  Hodge.  At  least  he  filled 
out  a  note, — I  must  have  read  it,  as  I  always  do, — and  brought  it  to 
me  as  I  lay  upon  the  couch,  with  pen  and  ink,  and  held  a  large  book — 
I  think  an  atlas — before  me  while  I  signed  it  lying  on  my  back.  I 
have  no  doubt  this  is  my  note.  I  am  sorry  I  have  made  you  all  this 
trouble,  gentlemen,  and  am  greatly  obliged  to  Professor  Cadmus  for 
refreshing  my  memory" 

There  was  a  peculiar  emphasis  on  the  last  words, — a  touch  of  bit 
terness,  I  thought.  There  was  a  moment's  silence,  and  then  the  crowd 
burst  forth  into  spontaneous  applause.  I  thought  it  was  intended  in 
part  at  least  for  the  professor ;  but  the  defendant  bowed  to  the  right 
and  left  with  the  utmost  composure,  taking  it  all  to  himself. 

The  professor  folded  his  charts,  and  disappeared  while  the  details 
of  the  judgment  were  being  adjusted.  Mr.  Oliver  drew  his  check  for 
the  face  of  the  note,  and  also  took  his  departure.  The  crowd  dispersed 
silently.  So  far  as  I  saw,  nobody  approached  to  commend  or  congratu- 


32  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

late  the  defendant.  On  the  contrary,  a  sort  of  uncomfortable  feeling 
seemed  to  have  been  aroused  in  regard  to  him,  despite  his  frank  ac 
knowledgment.  Perhaps  it  is  because  in  the  business  world  a  mistake 
is  worse  than  a  crime. 

We  did  not  tarry  longer  than  was  necessary.  The  impression  pro 
duced  by  what  we  had  heard  was  too  deep  to  comport  wTith  the  chatty 
mood  that  usually  attends  the  close  of  a  trial  and  transforms  the  fiercest 
of  opposing  counsel  into  the  most  affable  companions.  I  walked  back 
to  the  office  with  Mr.  Swallow.  For  once,  success  seemed  to  produce 
no  elation  with  him.  lie  neither  spoke  nor  chuckled  during  the  walk. 
The  door  of  the  Senior's  room  was  open,  and  he  beckoned  us  to  enter, 
— that  is,  he  beckoned  to  his  partner,  and,  as  I  was  carrying  the  papers, 
I  followed,  naturally. 

"Well,"  said  Gauge,  almost  in  a  whisper,  as  he  closed  the  door, 
"  how  did  you  get  on  with  Cadmus  ?" 

"  Well  enough,"  answered  Mr.  Swallow,  but  without  his  accustomed 
smile.  "  There  is  the  result." 

He  handed  Mr.  Gauge  the  check  as  he  spoke.  The  Senior  put  on 
the  glasses  he  had  been  twirling  nervously  in  his  hand,  and  gave  it  a 
momentary  glance. 

"  You  don't  say  !"  he  exclaimed,  in  amazement.     "  No  rebuttal  ?" 

"  Not  a  word  ;  squealed  outright,"  answered  Swallow. 

"  Wonderful !  wonderful !"  repeated  Mr.  Gauge,  turning  the  check 
over  and  over  in  his  hands  incredulously.  "  I  wish  I  had  been  there." 

"I  wish  to  heaven  you  had  !"  responded  his  partner,  angrily;  "and 
I  tell  you  what,  old  man,  if  you  put  up  any  more  of  your  con 
founded  mysteries  on  me,  I'll  quit  the  job :  blessed  if  I  don't !" 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Mr.  Swallow?"  said  the  Senior,  in  the  grieved 
tone  a  schoolmaster  uses  to  a  favorite  scholar. 

"Didn't  you  tell  me  Cadmus  had  no  acquaintance  with  Oliver?" 

"  Of  course  :  that  was  what  he  said,"  was  the  reply.  "  I  asked  him 
particularly.  He  said  he  had  often  heard  his  name,  but  never  saw  him 
nor  his  handwriting." 

"  Well,  he  went  on  the  stand  and  swore  everything  blue.  Of 
course  I  followed,  or  tried  to  follow,  the  line  of  examination  you  gave 
me ;  but,  bless  your  soul,  he  took  the  bits  in  his  teeth  and  went  off, 
trampling  over  court  and  rules  and  everything.  I  never  saw  such 
a  witness, — never !  Lord,  how  I  wished  you  were  there  to  look  after 
your  own  protege  /" 


PROFESSOR  CADMUS' 'S  GREAT  CASE.  33 

"  I  could  never  have  managed,  him  as  well  as  you,"  said  Mr. 
Gauge,  blandly. 

"Manage  him  !  I  manage  him?  I'd  rather  try  to  manage  a  wild 
bull !"  exclaimed  the  Junior,  walking  up  and  down  the  room  in  excite 
ment. 

"Why,  what  did  he  do?" 

"  Do  ?  You'd  better  ask  what  he  didn't  do.  Why,  he  papered  the 
whole  side  of  the  office  with  a  lot  of  charts  and  photographs,  all  done 
up  in  the  very  best  style,  mind  you,  but  which  I  had  never  seen  nor 
heard  of,  and  knew  no  more  about  than — than  he  does  about  giving 
expert  testimony.  How  was  I  to  examine  him  on  those  ?" 

"  Sure  enough  !'  said  the  other,  commiseratingly. 

"  Then  he  whips  out  his  rattan,  and  reads  the  court,  counsel,  and 
especially  the  defendant,  a  lesson  on  handwriting  and  the  comparison  of 
signatures  that  left  nothing  for  anybody  else  to  say,  while  I  sat  there  in 
a  perfect  swither,  wondering  what  he'd  do  next." 

"  And  you  say  he  said  he  knew  Oliver  ?" 

"  Knew  him  !  Why,  he  swore  he  knew  him  like  a  book, — inside 
and  out,  backward  and  forward, — had  known  him  thirty-live  years, 
seen~hiin  write,  and  knew  his  signature  !" 

"  Knew  Oliver's  writing  !  That  beats  me  !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Gauge, 
sitting  down  and  knotting  his  brows  perplexedly. 

"  Hold  on  !"  said  Swallow.  "  There's  another  curious  thing.  He 
didn't  call  him  Oliver, — not  once  !  I  couldn't  make  him.  He  would 
say  '  the  defendant'  all  the  time.  But  the  most  surprising  thing — and 
it's  what  cooked  Oliver's  goose,  too,  strange  as  it  may  seem — was  that 
he  introduced  the  signature  of  a  will " 

"A  will!" 

"Yes, — two  wills,  in  fact, — an  enlarged  copy,  you  know,  of  the 
signature  and  the  last  few  lines." 

"  And  they  made  no  objection?" 

"  Objection !  Why,  man,  it  was  over  in  a  flash !  But  there  it 
was,  just  as  clear  as  lightning, — one  of  the  signatures  the  very  counter 
part  of  Oliver's,  and  the  other  an  exact  duplicate  of  the  contested  one, 
— and  the  professor's  eyes  flashing  at  Oliver  like  a  basilisk's.  Oliver 
sat  behind  me ;  but  I  just  felt  him  give  way  then.  Of  course  Sweet 
objected  as  soon  as  anybody  could  ;  but  the  mischief  was  done.  Oliver 
suddenly  recollected  that  it  was  his  note.  Now,  I  want  to  know  who 
this  Professor  Cadmus  is  ?" 

B* 


34  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

"Oh,  he's  all  right,"  said  the  Senior,  thoughtfully.  /'I've  known 
him  ever  since  we  were  boys.  What  I  want  to  know  is,  who  is  Jim 
Oliver?" 

"Oliver  !  Why,  there  hasn't  been  a  better  known  man  in  the  city 
for  years !" 

"  Yes ;  but  before  that  ?  What  did  you  say  was  the  name  signed  to 
the  will?— Oliver?" 

"  No  :  it  was "     Mr.  Swallow  hesitated. 

"  Manderson,"  I  suggested,  not  sorry  to  show  how  attentive  I  had 
been. 

"  That  was  it,"  said  Mr.  Swallow  :  "  James  Manderson." 

The  effect  on  Mr.  Gauge  was  electrical.  Snatching  the  pen  from 
behind  his  car,  he  endorsed  the  check  like  a  flash  : 

"  Call  a  cab,  Mr.  Swallow  !  Take  that  to  the  bank  and  cash  it 
yourself!  Quick!'7 

Almost  before  he  had  ceased  speaking  I  had  tumbled  down-stairs 
and  hailed  a  cab.  Mr.  Swallow  was  there  by  the  time  it  reached  the 
curb-stone.  He  shouted  the  name  of  the  bank,  and  jumped  in,  dragging 
me  after  him.  The  driver  understood,  and  we  tore  through  the  streets 
like  mad.  Mr.  Swallow  presented  his  check,  and  it  was  cashed.  While 
he  was  counting  the  bills  I  heard  the  teller  say  to  a  young  man  at  his 
window, — 

"Tell  Mr.  Oliver  we  have  just  cashed  a  check  for  seventeen  thou 
sand  five  hundred  dollars,  leaving  his  account  about  that  much  less  than 
the  amount  of  the  check  you  have." 

"  I  wish  you  would  tell  me  about  this  James  Manderson  affair,"  said 
Mr.  Swallow  to  his  partner  after  our  return. 

"  I  don't  know  much  about  it,"  answered  Mr.  Gauge,  cautiously. 

"Tell  us  what  you  do  know,  then,"  said  the  junior,  impatiently. 

"  James  Manderson  was  a  rich  Bostonian  who  left  two  nephews  and 
two  wills." 

"  One  for  each,  I  suppose?" 

"  Hardly :  the  first  left  his  estate  equally  to  both  ;  the  second  left  it 
all  to  his  namesake  James — the  other  was  named  Oliver.  He  claimed 
that  the  latter  will  was  a  forgery.  Indeed,  that  was  the  general  opinion. 
It  was  said  to  be  a  very  clumsy  forgery,  too." 

"  What  was  done  about  it  ?" 
"  James  was  indicted,  but  disappeared  before  the  trial." 

"And  Oliver?" 


PROFESSOR  CADMUS'S  GEE  AT  CASE.  35 

"  I  never  met  him.     That  was  before  my  time :  about  '46  or  '48." 

"  What  had  Professor  Cadmus  to  do  with  the  matter?" 

"  There  was  no  Professor  Cadmus  then." 

"  Ah  !"  said  Swallow,  with  an  explosive  cluck,  as  he  opened  and  shut 
his  mouth  in  an  expressive  but  vulgar  manner.  "  Nor  any  Jim  Oliver, 
either,  I  suppose?" 

"  I'm  afraid  not,"  said  Mr.  Gauge,  cautiously. 

The  papers  were  full  of  the  case  next  day.  For  a  while  the  pro 
fessor's  name  was  in  everybody's  mouth,  and  he  was  in  great  demand 
as  an  expert ;  but  I  have  never  heard  of  his  appearing  in  any  case  since 
the  trial  of  Haskell  vs.  Oliver.  Mr.  Gauge  informed  all  inquirers  that 
he  had  gone  abroad.  Oliver  disappeared  too.  Singularly  enough,  the 
man  who  bought  his  splendid  up-town  house  is  named  Manderson. 
Gauge  &  Swallow  have  his  business, — or  Mr.  Gauge,  rather.  He  has 
never  been  to  the  office,  so  far  as  I  know,  but  Gauge  goes  and  takes  his 
orders,  just  as  the  butcher  does  yours.  Rich?  Of  course.  I  was 
sorry  the  professor  vanished, — or  his  daughter,  rather.  I  was  much 

interested  in  her,  and  felt  bad  enough,  for  a  time,  but well,  I  was 

finally  consoled. 


II. 

AN  UNLAWFUL  HONOR. 

TWO  results  of  my  connection  with  Professor  Cadmus's  case  were 
very  gratifying  :  I  was  given  a  small  weekly  stipend,  and  a  place 
was  found  for  my  desk  in  the  large  room  occupied  by  the  other  clerks. 
I  was  especially  glad  of  this  change  because  it  removed  me  from  un 
pleasantly  close  association  with  the  office-boy  and  gave  me  a  distinct 
status  among  the  strictly  professional  employes  of  Gauge  &  Swallow. 
But  more  than  both  these  things  I  prized  the  fact  that  I  had  attracted 
the  attention  of  the  senior  partner  and — as  I  believed — made  upon  him. 
a  not  altogether  unpleasant  impression. 

I  was  given  a  desk  next  to  the  railed  enclosure  occupied  by  Mr. 
Burrill  and  alongside  that  of  Mr.  Minton, — "  our  Mr.  Minton,"  as  he 
was  styled  by  the  members  of  the  firm.  When  we  were  at  work  we 
sat  with  our  backs  to  Mr.  Burrill,  who,  his  desk  facing  the  other  way, 
sat  also  with  his  back  to  us.  We  had  only  to  turn  round  upon  our 
office-chairs,  therefore,  to  be  within  arm's  length  of  each  other  with  the 
light  low  railing  of  Burrill's  enclosure  between. 

Burrill  had  been  with  Mr.  Gauge  before  the  formation  of  the  part 
nership  with  Mr.  Swallow,  and  was  still  the  confidential  assistant  of 
the  senior  partner.  He  had  been  the  chief  clerk,  perhaps  the  only 
clerk,  of  the  firm  for  years,  but  was  now  too  old  for  such  active  duty. 
Besides,  he  was  a  mere  clerk,  one  of  the  ancient  style  of  scriveners, 
whose  professional  knowledge,  though  by  no  means  despicable  in  mat 
ters  of  detail,  was  not  sufficient  to  enable  him  to  give  that  general  over 
sight  to  the  business  of  a  modern  legal  firm  which  a  head  clerk  or  a 
junior  partner  is  expected  to  exercise.  This,  at  least,  was  the  explana 
tion  I  framed  in  my  own  mind  of  the  fact  that  one  so  profoundly 
versed  in  "  stare  decisis"  and  so  thoroughly  trusted  by  the  firm  was 
still  an  employe*  rather  than  a  partner.  He  and  Minton  were  known 
as  "  the  old  man's  pets/'  the  office  being  divided  into  two  sets,  the  one 

36 


AN   UNLAWFUL  HONOR.  37 

consisting  of  Bronson  and  the  clerks  under  his  direction  and  the  other 
of  Mr.Burril  and  Mr  Minton.  These  two  never  seemed  to  notice 
the  chief  clerk— officially,  I  mean— or  to  recognize  his  function  or 
authority  so  far  as  their  own  conduct  was  concerned.  To  all  the  other 
employes  he  used  the  imperative  mood;  to  them  lie  only  made  suo-- 
gestions.  This  did  not  surprise  me  so  far  as  Mr.  Minton  was  co£- 
cerned  and  I  soon  learned  that  Burrill  was  equally  exempt  from  his 
oversight,  Ihe  old  man  did  but  little,  except  prepare  briefs  in  im 
portant  cases,  and  usually  received  his  instructions  directly  from  the 

I  u  In6      m*     He  C°uld  neither  be  subordinated  nor  removed 
1  lie  11  stick  right  there  as  long  as  he  is  able  to  come  to  the  office  " 
said  the  chief  clerk  to  me  one  day,  «  whether  he  does  anything  or  not'" 
Of  this  fact  the  old  gentleman  seemed  perfectly  well  aware,  and 
as  he  hobbled  back  and  forth  from  the  private  room  of  his  employer  to 
his  desk  he  neither  gave  information  as  to  the  work  on  which  he  was 
engaged  nor  Bought  to  know  what  others  were  doing.    When  he  desired 
assistance  or  required  any  particular  thing  to  be  done,  he  notified  the 
chief  clerk,  and  that  functionary  always  complied  with  his  request 
though  it  was  never  made  in  the  name  of  the  firm.     lie  was  a  white- 
haired,  amiable  old  gentleman,  who  had  served  his  time  with  a  Lon 
don  barrister  of  high  repute  before  the  chief  clerk  was  born,  and  would 
not  bate  a  jot  of  his  dignity  to  the  new  system  the  other  represented 
-He  bore  malice  to  no  human  being,  I  think,  except  the  chief  clerk,  and 
towards  him  only  m  an  impersonal  sense  as  the  exponent  of  modern 
metiiocls. 

As  the  years  went  by,  this  antipathy  was  transferred,  in  part,  at 
least  to  the  still  more  modern  mechanical  appliances  for  abbreviating 
clerkly  labor.     He  lived  to  see  many  multiplying  devices  tried,  and 
always  rejoiced  in  their  failure.     When  the  type-writer  came  into  use 
md  its  work  was  recognized  by  the  courts  as  a  suitable  substitute  for 
written  instruments,  the  old  man  began  to  lose  faith  in  his  ideals  and 
unceasingly  bewailed  the  degeneracy  of  modern  times.     He  often  ex 
pressed  regret  that  he  had  lived  to  see  that  machine  usurp  the  place 
the  pen  and  until  his  latest  hour  would  never  dictate  to  a  stenogra 
pher  nor  allow  his  work  to  be  manifolded  by  mechanical  means. 

In  striking  contrast  with  the  old  copyist  was  Mr.  Jasper  Minton 
who  was  grouped  with  him  by  the  youngsters  as  an  element  antagonistic 
c>  the  chief  clerk.     He  was  a  man  somewhat  above  the  middle  heiffht 
plain-featured,  with  dull  brown  hair  which  seemed  never  to  have  need 


gg  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

of  brush  or  comb -that  is,  it  was  never  in  disorder  and  never  showed 
sio-ns  of  having  been  put  in  order.  It  was  the  same  with  his  clothing ; 
it"was  always  of  the  plainest  material,  and  never  of  the  glossy  back  so 
much  affected  by  the  profession,  yet  he  never  seemed  aware  that 
not  fittingly  arrayed.  He  was  compactly  built,  and  clean-shaven  ex 
cept  for  a  neutral-tinted  moustache.  . 

There  was  nothing  especially  soldier-like  about  him,  yet  one  instinc 
tively  felt  that  his  cool  gray  eyes  had  not  always  looked  on  peaceful 
scenes      It  was  not,  however,  until  his  right  side-face  was  turned  to 
ward    you  that  one  realized  'what  heroic  fibre  was  to  be  found  in  the 
make-up  of  this  unpretentious  man.     At  the  point  of  the  high  cheek 
bone  a  bullet  had  entered,  ploughed  its  way  back  under  the  cav.  y  of  he 
eve  torn  up  the  osseous  foundation  of  the  parietal  bone,  and,  bursting 
out'  just  in  front  of  the  ear,  had  lightly  cut  the  tip  and  gone  on  its 
unrecorded  way.   It  was  known  that  after  receiving  this  terrible  wound 
Jasper  Miuton  had  continued  with  his  command  until  the  fight  was 
over,  when  he  reported  to  his  superior  vuth  the  laconic  remark  that 
if  there  was  nothing  especial  on  hand  for  him  to  do  he  would  step 
down  to  the  hospital  and  have  the  scratch  attended  to. 

This  man  wai  a  salaried  attorney,  employed  by  Gauge  &  Swallow 
to  do  their  work  whatever  it  might  be  and  wherever  he  might  be  sent. 
He  was  their  a<-ent  actim-  in  their  behalf,  clothed  with  unlimited  dis 
cretion,  binding  and  releasing  in  their  name;  but  he  had  nothing  to 
with  fees  or  charges,  profit  or  loss.  He  was  simply  "  Jasper  Mmton 
Attorney,  with  Gauge  &  Swallow."  That  was  all-uKjA  the  great 
firm,  but  not  of  it.  Those  who  knew  him  wondered  at  this;  b  t  he 
seemed  quite  content.  He  was  regarded  as  an  unusua  y  good  all- 
round"  lawyer,  and  attended  to  most  of  Gauge  &  Swa  low's  cases  in 
heir  preliminary  stages,  conducted  unaided  many  of  the  lesser  ones, 
and  was  not  unfrequently  an  indispensable  associate  in  the  trial  of  the 


He  lived  somewhere  out  of  town,  brought   his   lunch  in  a  tin 
pail  like  a  day-laborer  and  ate  it  in  the  office,  usually  at  his  de 
Cuently  without  interrupting  his  work.     He  was  never  ten  minutes 
ate  never  misse,!  an  engagement  or  failed  to  have  a  brief  or  a  pleading 
ready  on  time.    In  the  office  he  was  accounted  niggardly  and  plodding, 
-niLardly  because  he  made  no  secret  of  his  desire  to  avoid  expendi- 
ture,  and  plodding  because  he  was  such  a  tremendous  worker. 

Yet  he  was  seriously  unfitted  for  the  manual  drudgery  of  the  pro- 


AN  UNLAWFUL  HONOR.  39 

fession.  Though  an  expert  pleader  and  a  draughtsman  of  rare  excel 
lence,  he  was  a  poor  penman  and  totally  incapable  of  making  a  correct 
copy.  His  need  for  clerical  assistance  was,  therefore,  frequent  and  often 
pressing ;  but  he  never  allowed  himself  to  be  put  in  the  attitude  of 
asking  any  favor  of  the  chief  clerk. 

When  he  first  came  into  the  office,  I  was  told,  the  conflict  between 
him  and  the  executive  functionary  was  very  amusing. 

"Mr.  Bronson,"  he  would  say,  "I  think  Mr.  Swallow  would  like 
this  brief  copied  at  once.  Shall  I  give  it  to  Mr.  Scott?" 

"  Mr.  Scott  is  otherwise  engaged,"  Bronson  would  reply. 

Minton  would  fold  the  paper  and  put  it  in  his  pocket.  After  a 
time  Bronson  would  say,  in  a  condescending  tone, — 

"  If  you  will  let  rne  have  that  brief,  I  think  I  can  get  it  done  for 
you,  Mr.  Minton." 

"You  are  very  kind,"  Minton  would  reply,  without  looking  up. 

The  next  day,  perhaps,  the  paper  would  be  filed  in  a  neat  perpen 
dicular  hand  of  wonderful  clearness.  So  it  came  about  that  little  of  his 
copying  was  done  at  the  office  unless  specially  directed  by  one  of  the 
firm.  After  this  had  gone  on  for  some  time,  Mr.  Swallow  saw  fit  to 
rally  his  assistant  about  the  clothes  he  wore. 

"Who  is  your  tailor,  Minton?"  he  asked,  jocularly. 

"Underwood  cuts  my  clothes,"  Minton  answered,  drylv. 

Underwood  was  Mr.  Swallow's  tailor,  one  of  the  most  fashionable 
in  the  city,  and  a  great  friend  of  Minton. 

"And  who  makes  them?" 

"My  wife,"  gravely. 

"Indeed!"  said  Mr.  Swallow,  seeing  his  mistake.  "Isn't  that 
pretty  hard  on  her  ?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  was  the  cool  reply.  "  She  finds  time  besides  to  do 
more  copying  for  Gauge  &  Swallow  than  any  clerk  in  their  office." 

Burrill  says  Mr.  Swallow's  face  was  a  picture  worth  seeing  at  this 
reply.  After  that  Bronson  never  threw  any  obstacle  in  the  way  of 
Minton's  work,  and  the  pointed  microscopic  handwriting  was  rarely 
seen  in  the  office. 

It  was  reported  among  the  clerks  that  nothing  ever  betrayed  Mr. 
Minton  into  any  manifestation  of  surprise,  and  that  even  when  Mr. 
Swallow  was  thrown  oif  his  guard  by  the  tactics  of  the  enemy,  Mr. 
Minton  always  remained  undisturbed  and  had  saved  more  than  one 
important  case  by  his  scornful  impassivity.  It  is  certain  that  the  firm 


40  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

appreciated  him  very  highly,  as  was  well  attested  by  the  salary  they 
paid  for  his  services ;  but  it  would  never  do  for  Gauge  &  Swallow  to 
have  a  partner  who  brought  his  lunch  in  a  dinner-pail  and  twice  a  week 
came  to  the  office  with  a  market-basket  on  his  arm.  He  seemed  also  to 
have  an  inveterate  antipathy  to  the  attire  affected  by  the  profession.  We 
paid  more  attention  to  such  things  even  a  decade  and  a  half  ago  than  we 
do  now ;  and  I  must  confess  that  to  see  Mr.  Minton,  with  his  gray  busi 
ness  suit  and  scarred  imperturbable  face,  sitting  in  court  among  a  crowd 
of  sleek,  black-coated  lawyers,  whose  appearance  displayed  the  most 
careful  attention  to  the  proprieties  of  their  position,  grated  on  the  sen 
sibilities  of  even  the  youngest  clerk  in  the  office.  He  did  not  seem  to 
mind  it,  however,  and  I  am  bound  to  admit  that  it  did  not  prevent  him 
from  being  treated  with  the  utmost  consideration  by  the  entire  bar. 

Between  him  and  Bui-rill  there  had  sprung  up  a  very  warm  attach 
ment.  They  dined  together,  now  and  then,  at  a  restaurant,  and  the 
old  man,  who  was  a  bachelor,  not  un  frequently  spent  the  Sabbath  witli 
Minton  at  his  home  in  the  country.  I  immediately  determined  to  place 
myself  on  a  favorable  footing  with  both  these  men  without  breaking 
with  Bronson  and  his  new  methods.  I  have  always  avoided  close 
friendships  on  principle,  lest  they  entail  also  decided  enmities.  The 
old  clerk  met  my  advances  with  evident  pleasure,  and  we  were  soon  on 
very  pleasant  terms.  As  for  Mr.  Minton — well,  he  neither  invited  nor 
repelled,  yet  I  soon  felt  a  warmer  admiration  for  him  than  I  havo 
known  for  any  other  man. 

It  was  in  consequence  of  some  friendly  overtures  on  my  part  that 
this  self-contained  man  told  me,  in  a  half-proud,  half-deprecatory  man 
ner,  a  story  which  made  a  deep  impression  on  my  mind,  not  merely 
from  the  exciting  character  of  the  adventure  detailed,  but  from  the 
suggestion  it  contained  with  regard  to  our  national  character. 

It  happens  that  my  family  is  of  New-England  extraction,  though 
there  is  a  tradition  that  we  are  more  or  less  nearly  related  to  the  Fon 
taines,  or  de  Fontaines,  of  Virginia.  While,  therefore,  I  was  known  in 
the  office  as  Mr.  Fountain,  I  had  carefully  abstained  from  spelling  my 
name  in  that  manner,  invariably  signing  it  as  "  Gerald  de  Fontaine." 
This  fact  occasioned  some  unpleasant  comment  among  the  youngsters 
who  saw  me,  as  I  took  good  care  that  they  should,  on  familiar  terms  with 
the  two  men  in  the  room  most  worthy  of  consideration.  1  am  ashamed 
to  confess  that  these  allusions  to  my  name  annoyed  me,  and  I  deter 
mined  to  ask  Mr.  Minton's  advice  about  reporting  them  to  the  firm. 


AN  UNLAWFUL  HONOR.  41 

"  I  suppose  you  have  noticed  my  signature,  Mr.  Minton  ?"  I  said 
one  day  at  lunch-time,  for  I  had  got  into  the  habit  of  bringing  a  bit 
with  me,  not  in  a  pail,  it  is  true,  but  neatly  wrapped  up,  so  that  I  could 
slip  it  into  my  desk.  I  thought  if  Mr.  Minton  could  afford  to  eat  his 
luncheon  at  his  desk  I  might  do  the  same,  especially  as  my  landlady 
charged  me  nothing  extra  for  it;  and,  though  I  was  now  in  receipt  of 
a  small  salary,  even  the  sum  of  fifteen  cents  a  day  was  a  saving  not  to 
be  despised. 

"  Not  particularly,"  was  the  careless  reply.  "  I  believe  it  is  legible, 
—which  can  hardly  be  said  of  mine." 

"I  referred  to  its  orthography,  not  its  chirography,"  I  answered. 

"Yes?    What  about  it  f' 

It  annoyed  me  that  he  had  paid  no  attention  to  its  aristocratic  char 
acter,  so  I  answered,  rather  stiffly, — 

"  You  have  observed  the  prefix  ?" 

"  Oh,  the  <  de' :  is  it  a  fact  or  a  fad  ?" 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,  sir." 

"  I  mean  is  it  your  real  name  or  a  fancy  you  have  taken  up  ?" 

Then  I  told  him  of  our  supposed  relation  to  the  de  Fontaines  of 
Virginia. 

"  But  you  arc  one  of  the  Fountains  of  Framingham." 

"  Yes,  but  they  are  supposed  to  have  been  of  the  same  English 
stock." 

"That  is  hardly  worth  discussing,  because  of  its  improbability," 
said  Minton.  "  A  man  has  the  right  to  use  the  name  he  inherits,  but 
in  my  opinion  he  should  be  careful  how  he  adds  to  or  takes  from  it." 

"  But  this  is  merely  a  restoration,"  I  urged. 

"  That  brings  up  the  question  of  probability.  Fountain  is  a  good 
old  English  name  which  probably  antedates  by  some  centuries  the  first 
progenitor  of  the  '  de  Fontaines/  I  had  to  look  the  matter  up  a  few 
years  ago  in  tracing  title  to  an  inheritance,  and  found  some  curious 
facts  in  relation  to  the  Virginia  stock.  It  seems,"  he  added,  settling 
himself  back  in  his  chair  with  the  air  of  one  familiar  with  his  subject, 
"  that  old  Pierre  de  Fontaine  was  a  man  of  varied  attainments  for  his 
time.  He  was  no  doubt  a  swashbuckler  of  renown,  and  his  well-es 
tablished  fame  as  a  soldier  served  him  in  good  stead  when  his  life  was 
forfeit  to  the  crown,  so  that  instead  of  being  hanged  he  was  transported 
to  Virginia,  where  it  was  rightly  judged  that  his  courage  would  do 
the  colony  more  good  than  his  criminal  tendencies  could  do  it  harm." 
4* 


42  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

"  I  suppose  his  crimes  were  mere  acts  of  violence,  characteristic 
of  the  time,"  I  said,  jealous  of  the  fame  of  the  ancestry  I  desired  to 
claim. 

"  Well,  I  believe  he  had  been  up  for  robbery  once  or  twice  and  so 
lost  his  clergy;  but  the  moving  cause  of  his  enforced  migration  seems 
to  have  been  a  double  conviction  at  the  same  assize  for  bigamy  and 
forgery.  It  is  well  known  that  the  Virginia  family  descended  from 
him  by  a  marriage  contracted  after  his  arrival  in  the  colony.  As  he 
must  have  had  at  least  two  wives  on  the  other  side  to  support  the  in 
dictment  for  bigamy,  it  is  quite  possible  that  the  Yankee  family  may 
be  descended  from  him  likewise." 

This  remark  nettled  me,  and  I  rejoined,  with  some  heat, — 
"  It  is  evident,  Mr.  Minton,  that  you  care  nothing  for  titles." 
"You  are  half  right,"  he  answered,  good-naturedly, — " which  is 
nearer  than  most  men  generally  get  to  the  truth.  I  certainly  despise 
hereditary  titles  as  much  as  I  esteem  well-earned  honors.  A  father's 
name  is  an  honorable  inheritance ;  a  transmitted  title  may  be  a^badge  of 
shame  or  even  a  ridiculous  travesty  of  merit.  Think  of  an  idiotic  peer  of 
the  realm  brought  into  the  House  of  Lords  in  the  care  of  a  keeper  to^vote 
with  the  government  on  a  division.  Bah !  it  is  enough  to  sicken  the  believer 
in  civilization  !  Inherited  titles  are  the  ghastliest  of  all  shams.  If  I 
were  a  real  descendant  of  old  Pierre,  I  would  write  my  name  Fontaine, 
or  possibly  de  Fontaine,  with  positive  pride  in  the  ancestor  who,  after 
a  life  of  debauchery  in  the  Old  World,  came  to  the  New,  with  only  his 
sword  and  the  felon's  brand,  and  carved  out  for  himself  an  honorable 
place  among  the  strong  men  of  his  day.  So,  too,  if  my  father  and  his 
father  before  him  had  written  the  name  Fountain,  no  power  in  the 
world  could  induce  me  to  cast  discredit  upon  them  by  changing  a  single 
letter." 

"  You  do  not  believe  such  things  are  an  incentive  to  worthy  ac 
tions?" 

"What  things?" 

"Honors  that  a  man  may  win  and  transmit  with  his  name." 
"  Sometimes,  no  doubt ;  but  more  frequently  inherited  honor,  like 
inherited  wealth,  tends  to  debase  and  demoralize  the  possessor.     A 
father's  renown  should  always  be  an  incentive  to  the  son  to  win  equal 
honor." 

"  But  with  us  Americans  there  is  no  such  incentive." 

"  That  is  too  true ;  and  in  my  opinion  it  is  chiefly  because  we  have 


AN  UNLAWFUL  HONOR.  43 

but  one  standard  of  merit, — money,  or,  at  the  best,  money  and  power. 
We  recognize  no  honor  except  in  wealth  or  political  station." 

"  You  will  surely  except  the  prestige  attaching  to  military  achieve 
ment?" 

"That  least  of  all,"  he  said,  with  a  peculiar  smile.  "We  pay  for 
our  patriotism  by  the  day,  and  recognize  no  merit  attaching  to  the  per 
formance  of  a  soldier's  duty  that  has  not  its  equivalent  in  money — or 
a  monument.  Look  at  our  soldiers  of  the  late  war  !  If  they  were  en 
titled  to  wear  so  much  as  a  ribbon  at  the  button-hole  in  token  of  faith 
ful  service,  it  would  constitute  an  impulse  that  would  carry  us  on  for  a 
generation.  Honor  is  something  better  than  rank ;  and  if  we  could 
hold  out  to  each  generation  the  opportunity  to  win  and  wear  distinctive 
marks  of  merit,  gold  would  soon  cease  to  be- the  only  or  even  the  high 
est  prize  of  American  life." 

"  One  would  hardly  expect  a  man  with  such  a — a — practical  turn 
of  mind  as  you,  to  be  so  sentimentally  inclined."  I  came  near  saying 
"an  economical  turn  of  mind,"  but  caught  myself  just  in  time. 

"No?"  he  asked,  with  a  smile,  as  if  he  read  my  thought.  After 
a  moment's  silence  he  added,  as  a  softer  look  came  into  his  eyes  than  I 
had  ever  seen  there  before,  "  I  suppose  you  would  hardly  believe  that  I 
once  risked  being  cashiered  by  refusing  to  obey  an  explicit  order  of  the 
Secretary  of  War — the  great  War  Secretary,  too,  whose  wrath  was  no 
light  thing  to  face — and  surrender  a  decoration  I  had  fairly  won?" 

"No,  indeed.     Tell  me  about  it,  please." 

While  I  have  no  especial  admiration  for  a  soldier,  and  certainly 
never  had  any  desire  to  be  one,  I  must  confess  that  I  do  love  to  hear 
gallant  deeds  recounted,  especially  by  those  engaged  in  them.  I  en 
tirely  approve  the  dictum  of  our  modern  literary  cult,  that  the  days  of 
heroism  are  past.  Henceforth  the  world  will  be  governed  by  the 
rates  of  exchange,  and  a  good  coat  will  be  worth  more  to  the  man  am 
bitious  of  success  than  the  best  sword  ever  forged.  Yet  I  like  to  hear 
about  what  I  shall  never  see,  and  only  half  believe  in  at  the  best.  So 
I  pressed  very  earnestly  for  an  explanation  of  the  fact  he  had  stated. 
For  a  time  he  made  no  response.  Finally  he  turned  to  his  desk,  and, 
taking  a  little  silver  case  from  one  of  its  drawers,  wheeled  about  so  that 
the  light  would  fall  upon  it,  touched  a  spring,  and  gazed  at  what  it 
contained  with  more  emotion  than  I  supposed  him  capable  of  betray 
ing.  We  had  just  finished  our  luncheon,  and  I  had  lighted  a  cigar. 
Strangely  enough,  this  man  with  the  impress  of  a  soldier's  life  visibly 


44  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

impressed  upon  him  neither  drank  nor  smoked.  Watching  him  for  a 
moment,  I  felt  sure  from  the  strange  light  in  his  face  that  he  had  for 
gotten  the  present  and  was  living  in  the  past. 

^  May  I  see  it  ?"  I  asked,  taking  the  cigar  from  my  mouth  and 
leaning  towards  him. 

He  took  from  the  case  a  red  silk  ribbon  crossed  with  narrow  white 
and  blue  at  the  top,  on  which  was  printed,  in  gilt  letters, — 

LEG i ox  OF  HOXOR 
ARMY  OF  THE  CUMBERLAND. 

Attached  to  it  was  a  plain  gold  pin  bearing  the  name  "  Lt.  Jasper 
Minton,"  and  the  date  "  Feb.  5th,  1863."  Burrill  came  in  while  I 
was  looking  at  it,  and  inquired  what  we  were  about.  In  response  to  a 
nod  from  Minton,  I  handed  the  badge  to  the  old  clerk. 

"And  was  this  you,  my  boy?"  asked  the  old  man,  proudly,  when 
lie  had  deciphered  the  inscription. 

Minton  answered  only  by  a  smile. 

"Was  that  the  time  you  got  your  wound?"  I  asked,  glancin^  at 
his  check. 

"  Not  that  one,"  he  answered,  with  a  quiet  laugh,  as  if  he  carried 
an  assortment  of  such  interesting  relics,  each  having  its  own  independent 
history. 

"^Oh,  do  tell  us  about  it,  my  boy,"  exclaimed  the  old  man,  drawing 
np  his  chair  and  preparing  to  listen. 

"It  is  not  much  of  a  story,"  said  Minton,  apologetically.  "  I  was 
a  young  man  when  the  war  broke  out,  having  graduated  'from  Dart 
mouth  two  years  before  and  gone  to  Minnesota  with  my  lawyer's  license 
and  a  theodolite,  ready  to  take  to  railroading  or  the  profession  as  chance 
might  determine.  My  inclination  was  entirely  to  the  latter,  however, 
as  I  was  neither  ambitious  nor  adventurous.  Besides,  I  was  in  love. 
A  snug  practice  in  a  country  town,  with  a  little  home  and — Melissa, — 
that  was  the  height  of  my  aspiration." 

"  As  if  that  was  not  enough,  you  dog !"  growled  the  old  man  in  re 
sponse  to  the  light  in  Minton's  eyes  as  he  pronounced  the  name. 

"  Well,  the  war  came,  and  there  was  an  end  of  all  such  dreams. 
I  did  not  hesitate, — could  not.  It  seemed  as  much  a  matter  of  course 
that  I  should  enter  the  service  as  that  I  should  live.  As  I  had 


AN  UNLAWFUL  HONOR.  45 

no  desire  to  excel  as  a  soldier  and  no  relish  for  political  prominence, 
I  was  quite  content  with  the  place  of  an  enlisted  man,  anxious  only 
to  do  my  duty  and  have  the  need  for  it  soon  over.  I  obtained 
preferment  very  soon,  simply  because  I  did  what  wras  required 
faithfully  and  without  complaint.  I  certainly  did  not  seek  it. 
I  always  felt  sure  that  I  would  make  a  fair  sort  of  a  lawyer,  but  had 
no  confidence  in  my  fitness  for  military  life. 

"  After  a  time,  accident  brought  me  into  personal  contact  with  the 
general  in  command  of  the  corps  to  which  I  belonged,  and  a  few  days 
later  I  was  surprised  to  find  myself  detailed  as  judge-advocate  of 'a 
general  court-martial.  From  this  time  on  I  Avas  frequently  designated 
for  such  service.  It  was  a  rather  congenial  occupation,  and  I  welcomed 
it  even  more  gladly  than  an  actual  preferment,  because  it  gave  experi 
ence  in  the  line  of  my  profession. 

"  In  the  mean  time  the  general  in  command  of  the  Department,  in 
order  to  encourage  the  soldiers  to  acts  of  individual  daring,  had  in 
stituted,  by  general  orders,  what  he  termed  a  Legion  of  Honor,  and  one 
or  two  badges  had  already  been  bestowed.  The  effect  on  the  spirit 
of  the  army  was  perceptible  at  once.  One  could  see  that  the  hope  of 
wearing  this  bit  of  ribbon  was  a  far  greater  incentive  to  gallant  deeds 
than  the  prospect  of  promotion.  It  conferred  no  rank  or  privilege,  but 
in  the  eyes  of  the  soldiery  an  enlisted  man  with  this  badge  on  his  breast 
was  a  far  more  enviable  mortal  than  he  who  wore  an  eagle  on  his 
shoulders.  This  feeling  I  could  well  understand. 

"  I  was  a  veteran  of  almost  two  years'  experience,  and  had  already 
crossed  my  straps  with  a  bar,  when  I  was  ordered  to  report  for  duty  as 
judge-advocate  of  a  general  court-martial  to  be  held  at  the  head-quarters 
of  a  division  which  was  encamped  some  thirty  miles  distant  from  the 
one  to  which  I  belonged.  It  was  an  important  occasion,  as  some  officers 
of  high  rank  were  to  be  tried  on  very  serious  charges,  and  I  was  almost 
the  only  subaltern  named  in  the  detail  composing  the  court.  I  was 
naturally  very  much  gratified  at  this  evidence  of  confidence  on  the  part 
of  the  general  commanding,  and  on  reporting  for  duty  I  was  given  an 
escort  of  eighteen  cavalry  under  charge  of  a  sergeant,  making,  with  my 
clerk,  servant,  and  myself,  a  party  of  twenty-two.  Our  destination  was 
the  head-quarters  of  a  division  occupying  an  isolated  position  on  our 
extreme  left,  within  supporting  distance,  it  is  true,  of  other  corps,  Imt 
with  long  intervals  between,  through  which  the  enemy's  cavalry,  which 
greatly  outnumbered  our  own,  and  had,  besides,  the  advantage  of  a 


46  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

thorough  knowledge  of  the  roads  and  the  sympathy  of  the  inhab 
itants,  ranged  pretty  much  at  will,  attacking  our  trains  and  '  gobbling 
up'  small  bodies  of  troops  almost  within  sight  of  our  outposts. 

"  For  this  reason,  I  hesitated  to  make  the  journey  with  the  small  force 
at  my  command.  My  orders,  however,  were  imperative,  and  this  was 
all  the  escort  that  had  been  assigned  me.  A  year  later,  I  would  not 
have  minded  taking  much  greater  chances.  I  belonged  to  the  infantry, 
and  did  not  know  how  safe  a  squad  of  cavalry  really  is  in  such  a 
country  as  that  we  had  to  traverse.  In  fact,  it  was  a  lesson  even  out 
generals  had  yet  to  learn. 

"  None  of  the  men  knew  anything  of  the  road  over  which  we  were 
to  pass,  save  its  general  direction.  I  studied  it  as  carefully  as  our 
imperfect  maps  would  permit,  and  at  the  last  outpost,  twelve  miles 
away,  obtained  a  'way-bill,'  as  it  was  called,  drawn  by  a  scout  who 
claimed  to  be  familiar  with  the  road,  giving  its  salient  topographical 
features.  With  this  aid  we  proceeded  without  difficulty  until  mid- 
aflernoon,  when,  either  from  having  failed  to  observe  instructions  or 
from  treachery  on  the  part  of  the  scout,  we  found  ourselves  upon  a 
road  leading  in  a  direction  very  different  from  the  one  we  ought  to 
pursue,  though  still  exhibiting  all  the  local  characteristics  he  had  de 
scribed.  As  soon  as  I  was  assured  of  this,  I  called  a  halt  where  four 
roads  met,  and,  sending  out  vedettes  on  each,  applied  myself  to  the 
study  of  the  map  while  the  horses  were  rested  and  watered. 

u  After  some  difficulty,  I  located  the  Corners,  at  which  we  had 
halted,  as  lying  about  eight  miles  east  of  the  road  we  should  have  taken 
and  some  ten  miles  south  of  the  town  where  the  division  we  sought 
was  encamped.  From  this  point  a  country  road  was  marked  upon 
the  map,  running  directly  northward  to  the  point  we  wished  to  reach. 
It  led  through  a  somewhat  rugged  country ;  but,  as  it  was  a  post-road, 
without  troublesome  intersections,  I  felt  little  doubt  of  our  ability  to 
follow  it.  These  conclusions  were  confirmed  by  the  answers  I  received 
to  questions,  framed  on  the  assumption  of  knowledge  and  intended  to 
convey  the  idea  that  we  meant  to  follow  the  road  by  which  we  had 
come,  which  I  propounded  to  the  female  inhabitants  of  a  poor  white's 
cabin  which  stood  near  at  hand. 

"  The  volunteer  soldier  of  that  period  of  the  war  placed  little  re 
liance  on  the  knowledge  or  judgment  of  his  subaltern.  In  this  c:is<  1 
could  not  blame  my  escort  for  any  lack  of  faith  in  me.  We  had  IK-VI-I 
met  until  the  night  before,  and  I  did  not  even  belong  to  their  arm  of 


AN   UNLAWFUL  HONOR.  47 

the  service.  My  lieutenant's  straps  went  for  nothing.  They  knew,  no 
doubt,  hundreds  of  subalterns  who  were  in  no  respect  the  superior  of 
the  enlisted  men  they  commanded,  except  in  rank.  The  doubt  I  fdt 
in  regard  to  our  course  it  had  been  impossible  for  me  to  conceal,  and 
when  I  returned  I  found  the  men  grouped  together,  earnestly  consult 
ing  in  regard  to  the  situation.  They  looked  at  me  inquiringly  as  I 
came  up.  I  knew  it  was  essential  that  I  should  have  their  confidence. 
So,  without  waiting  for  the  question  that  I  saw  trembled  on  the  ser 
geant's  lips,  I  said, — 

" '  Men,  that  scoundrel  who  marked  out  the  route  for  us  at  Lairds- 
town  is  a  traitor  and  has  sent  us  on  the  wrong  road.  If  we  should 
keep  on,  I  have  a  notion  we  would  strike  John  Morgan's  lines  about 
dark,  instead  of  Rousseau's.  I  have  suspected  this  for  some  time,  but, 
as  he  was  reported  to  be  reliable,  did  not  feel  justified  in  departing 
from  his  instructions  until  we  reached  this  point,  which  I  recognized  at 
once  as  the  intersection  of  two  roads  plainly  laid  down  on  the  map.  I 
would  like  to  send  back  word  to  the  officer  in  command;  but  I  could 
not  ask  one  of  you  to  take  the  risk  of  riding  back  alone,  and  more 
than  one  could  not  be  spared.  The  left-hand  road  runs  across  the 
country  straight  to  our  destination.  We  have  lost  about  four  or  five 
miles,  but  have  plenty  of  time  and  our  animals  are  in  good  condi 
tion.  You  may  as  well  tighten  your  girths  and  look  to  your  arms, 
because  if  we  have  to  fight  we  are  going  to  give  a  good  account  of 
ourselves/ 

"I  drew  a  revolver,  apparently  for  the  purpose  of  examining  its 
condition, — really,  to  have  it  in  hand  if  there  should  be  any  indication 
of  dissent. 

"  *  Lieutenant/  said  the  sergeant,  argumentatively,  '  hadn't  we 
better ' 

"  l  It  is  settled,  sir/  I  interrupted,  quietly,  looking  up  from  my 
examination  of  the  weapon  with  the  hammer  at  full  cock.  '  Mount 
your  men.' 

"  l  All  right !'  said  he,  glancing  at  the  weapon  with  a  shrug.  l  You 
are  the  doctor.' 

"  The  reply  was  not  exactly  what  '  the  Eegulations '  prescribe,  but 
he  saluted  as  he  spoke,  and  I  saw  at  once  that  neither  frankness  nor 
decision  had  been  lost  upon  the  little  squad.  I  had  been  deceived, 
had  admitted  it,  and  had  decided  promptly  on  a  way  to  get  out  of  the 
trap.  This  gave  them  confidence,  which  was  greatly  increased  when, 


48  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

after  the  vedettes  were  called  in,  we  started  back  along  tlie  road  we  Lad 
come,  the  people  in  the  cabin  watching  us  curiously  as  we  rode  away. 
A  half-mile  back  I  had  observed  a  flinty  ridge  which  crossed  the  pike 
at  an  angle,  which  I  was  satisfied  would  intersect  the  road  we  wished 
to  take  about  the  same  distance  from  the  place  of  our  halt,  running  all 
the  way  through  open  oak  woods.  Reaching  this  point,  I  halted  the 
men  and  made  them  ride  carefully,  one  by  one,  over  the  narrow  crest 
into  the  woods  beyond.  This  done,  I  dismounted  and  myself  obliter 
ated  the  few  traces  of  the  movement  the  flinty  rocks  retained.  This 
simple  expedient  strengthened  my  hold  upon  the  men,  and  I  felt  they 
would  follow  wherever  I  might  lead,  as  the  event  proved.  Whatever 
might  be  in  our  front,  they  felt  safe  from  pursuit.  As  one  of  them 
remarked,  we  ( had  gone  into  a  hole  and  pulled  the  hole  in  after  us.' 

"  I  pushed  on  briskly,  making  the  men  dismount  when  the  ascent 
was  sharp,  so  as  to  save  the  horses,  not  knowing  what  need  we  might 
have  for  wind  and  bottom  before  sunset.  I  was  determined  to  cover 
at  least  ten  miles  before  dark,  which  ought  to  bring  us  to  our  des 
tination  if  my  calculations  were  correct.  If  not,  I  resolved  to  seek 
some  sheltered  position,  feed  the  horses,  and  rest  until  the  moon  rose, 
and  then  take  the  first  road  leading  westward,  which  I  felt  sure  would 
eventually  lead  into  the  Lebanon  pike. 

"About  five  o'clock  we  crossed  the  summit  of  the  ridge  we  had 
been  climbing,  catching  a  glimpse  of  a  little  town  in  the  valley  below, 
and  just  beyond  it  the  white  tents  of  a  considerable  body  of  soldiers. 
There  was  about  the  camp  that  indescribable  air  of  neatness  that  charac 
terized  the  posts  of  the  Federal  army,  and  through  my  glass  I  could 
easily  make  out  the  dark  uniforms  of  the  men  and  the  flag  that  marked 
the  quarters  of  the  general  commanding.  This  relieved  my  anxiety. 

"  'That's  where  we're  bound  for,  boys/  I  said,  gleefully,  turning  to 
my  little  squad,  '  and,  if  John  Morgan  is  not  waiting  for  us  somewhere 
among  the  hills  below,  we  shall  soon  be  there/ 

"The  celebrated  Confederate  partisan  was  at  that  time  so  nearly 
ubiquitous  on  front  and  rear  that  one  would  hardly  have  been  surprised 
to  find  him  within  hail  of  any  of  our  outposts.  Dashing,  tireless,  and 
of  inexhaustible  resource,  in  command  of  a  force  some  one  of  whom 
was  sure  to  know  every  bridle-path  in  the  whole  region  where  he  fought, 
Morgan  undoubtedly  caused  us  more  damage  with  less  loss  of  men  than 
any  other  Confederate  leader.  He  rarely  fought,  not  because  he  was 
unwilling  to  fight,  but  because,  as  he  said,  his  men  were  too  valuable 


AN  UNLAWFUL  HONOR.  49 

to  be  killed.  So  my  words  were  not  regarded  as  a  warning,  but  as  a 
jest. 

"  Up  to  that  time  we  had  proceeded  cautiously  and  almost  silently 
since  leaving  the  main  highway.  The  road  had  been  rugged  and 
broken,  and  the  march  a  difficult  one.  Hardly  had  the  descent  begun 
when  we  struck  into  a  broad,  well-travelled  road,  one  end  of  which 
led  over  the  ridge  to  the  westward,  while  the  other  crept  down  into  the 
valley  below.  It  was  densely  wooded  on  the  upper  side,  but  the  track 
was  wide  and  the  grade  easy  as  it  wound  in  and  out  along  the  undula 
tions  of  the  hill-side.  On  the  right  or  lower  side  were  occasional 
clearings,  and  now  and  then  a  house  perched  on  a  knoll  across  a  little 
ravine,  the  course  of  which  determined  that  of  the  roadway. 

"  As  soon  as  we  struck  this  our  vigilance  relaxed.  It  was  a  warm 
day,  and  the  horses,  though  not  at  all  winded,  were  perspiring  freely. 
We  threw  the  reins  upon  their  necks  and  let  them  take  their  own  gait 
down  the  easy  grade.  I  remember  thinking  that  for  a  spurt  of  a  mile 
or  so  they  were  actually  in  better  condition  than  when  we  started  out. 
The  men  laughed  and  chatted  gayly  as  we  rode  on.  A  sort  of  un 
easy  feeling  led  me  to  caution  them  to  keep  their  saddles  and  not  en 
tirely  relax  their  watchfulness  until  we  reached  the  valley.  They  com 
plied  with  my  request,  for  I  made  it  a  request  rather  than  a  command, 
though  I  could  see  that  they  regarded  it  as  an  unnecessary  precaution. 
However,  the  soldier  always  esteems  watchfulness  on  the  part  of  his 
officer,  knowing  how  much  depends  on  being  ready  for  the  worst. 

"  In  reality,  I  had  no  apprehension.  Practically  in  sight  of  the 
camp,  I  felt  that  we  were  almost  as  safe  as  if  within  its  lines.  Gradu 
ally  I  drew  ahead  a  little  with  the  sergeant,  both  our  horses  being  fast 
walkers,  and  we  fell  into  conversation  about  the  curious  retreat,  which 
was  practically  a  stampede,  that  had  occurred  along  these  very  roads 
the  summer  before,  occasioned  by  Bragg's  sudden  irruption  on  our  left 
flank.  In  the  race  for  the  Ohio  we  had  beaten  him  by  a  neck,  though 
he  had  the  inside  line.  The  impolicy  of  this  retreat  was  now  apparent. 
Our  army  should  either  have  pressed  forward  or  else  have  allowed 
Bragg  to  pass  us  and  fallen  upon  his  rear. 

"  While  we  discussed  this  subject,  the  trend  of  the  road  had  changed. 
The  open  valley  stretching  away  to  the  eastward  lay  upon  our  right, 
and  the  sun  shone  over  the  hills  at  our  left,  leaving  us  in  the  cool  even 
ing  shadow.  The  road  upon  which  we  were,  evidently  fell  into  one 
that  led  down  the  valley  towards  the  town  which  lay  at  its  junction 
5  C 


50  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

with  the  Lebanon  pike.  Thinking  of  this,  I  called  the  sergeant's 
attention  to  the  open  gateway  it  afforded  to  the  rear  of  our  forces  in  the 
town,  now  hardly  two  miles  away.  Our  road  was  still  cut  out  of  the 
hill-side,  which  rose  abruptly  on  our  left,  while  below  us,  at  the  foot 
of  a  sharp  declivity,  stretched  away  an  open  meadow. 

"Almost  as  I  spoke  we  rounded  a  projecting  point  of  the  hill-side, 
and  saw  a  force  of  Confederate  cavalry  filing  cautiously  from  the  valley 
road  into  the  one  on  which  we  were  advancing.  I  judged  that  there 
were  three  hundred  or  more,  and  that  about  half  of  them  had  passed 
the  angle  and  were  in  the  road  in  our  front.  There  was  but  one  thing 
to  do.  To  turn  back  up  the  hill  with  our  jaded  horses  in  the  attempt 
to  escape,  was  to  invite  capture  or  destruction.  We  could  not  leave  the 
road  on  either  side  for  at  least  three  miles.  They  were  below  us, 
hardly  one  hundred  rods  away,  the  slope  was  sharp,  a  charge  was  sure 
to  throw  them  into  confusion,  and  some  of  us  stood  a  fair  chance  of 
getting  through.  As  for  the  rest — well,  it  was  the  only  chance  1 

"  All  this,  and  more,  rushed  through  my  mind  in  a  second. 

" '  Sabres !'  I  hissed  to  the  sergeant  as  I  lowered  my  bridle  arm, 
gripping  the  reins  tighter  as  I  did  so,  and  flashed  my  own  weapon  to 
my  shoulder. 

"  The  movement  was  answered  instantly  by  the  rattle  of  blades 
and  the  clang  of  empty  scabbards  behind.  There  was  nothing  but 
cold  steel  for  it ;  and  even  that  did  not  promise  much.  Every  one  saw 
this  and  knew  that  the  odds  against  us  were  terrible.  No  matter :  we 
were  in  for  it,  and  not  a  man  flinched. 

" '  Left — wheel !'  shouted  the  sergeant  as  he  drew  up  by  my  side, 
pressing  me  to  the  outer  edge  of  the  roadway,  and  in  half  the  time  it 
takes  to  tell  it  we  were  ten  files  front  advancing  at  a  sharp  trot.  I 
threw  a  glance  down  the  even  line  the  sergeant  was  dressing  as  if  on 
parade,  and  never  felt  prouder  in  my  life  than  of  the  handful^of  de 
termined  fellows  then  under  my  command.  My  clerk  had  fallen  into 
position  in  my  rear.  Being  a  '  dough-boy/  he  had  no  sabre,  but  he  car 
ried  his  revolver  al  the  cock,  his  arm  straight  down  at  his  side  as  if  he 
had  been  in  the  cavalry  all  his  life.  My  servant,  a  big  black  fellow, 
mounted  on  a  powerful  bay,  was  just  in  the  rear  of  the  centre,  his  eyes 
almost  starting  from  their  sockets,  his  hand  grasping  an  old  sabre  he 
had  long  been  accustomed  to  carry  when  on  the  march.  I  knew  he 
was  terribly  frightened,  but  I  was  sure  he  would  fight  desperately. 

"  During  this  time  I  had  been  giving  my  orders  in  a  tone  which 


AN  UNLAWFUL  HONOR.  51 

must  have  been  audible  pretty  nearly  to  the  town,  and  in  a  style  that 
would  have  astounded  my  command  at  any  other  time,  my  infantry 
training  overpowering  instinctively  the  little  knowledge  I  had  of  cavalry 
tactics. 

" '  Forward  !  Guide  right !  Double  quick  !'  I  shouted,  waving 
my  sword  above  my  head. 

" l  Front  rank — right  cut !  Rear  rank — tierce  point !'  supplemented 
the  sergeant. 

"  The  swords  leaped  up  and  hung  like  a  bow  of  light  over  each  set 
face  in  the  little  company. 

"  Charge  !'     I  think  every  lip  echoed  the  terrible  word  ! 

"  I  heard  the  horses  groan  as  the  rowels  pressed  their  flanks.  Then 
we  leaned  forward  with  teeth  clenched  and  the  muscles  of  our  upflung 
arms  so  tensely  drawn  that  the  sabres  hardly  quivered  as  we  shot  down 
the  sharp  declivity.  Silent  and  swift  the  road  flew  back  beneath  our 
horses'  feet.  The  enemy  were  scarce  two  hundred  yards  away.  The 
road  fell  towards  them  straight  as  an  arrow.  An  insurmountable  bank 
was  on  their  right ;  upon  their  left,  a  wall  six  or  eight  feet  sheer,  and 
then  a  sharp  descent  to  the  little  rill  we  had  been  following  down  the 
mountain,  which  crossed  the  valley  road  hardly  a  rod  above  the  junction 
with  the  one  we  were  descending.  The  bridge  across  it  was  a  high  one, 
though  not  more  than  fifteen  or  twenty  feet  long,  the  little  branch  being 
evidently  a  torrent  in  wet  weather.  I  saw  these  things  at  a  glance,  and 
felt  that  they  all  made  in  our  favor.  Already  there  were  signs  of  con 
fusion  among  the  enemy.  They  no  doubt  greatly  outnumbered  our 
force, — though  twenty  sabres  in  the  hands  of  desperate  men,  under  the 
circumstances,  were  not  to  be  regarded  with  composure. 

"  Plunging  the  spurs  into  my  horse,  I  would  have  shot  ahead  even 
of  the  blue  wall  at  my  left,  had  not  the  sergeant  struck  his  sabre  across 
my  breast,  exclaiming, — 

" i  Do  not  press  the  pace  !' 

"  I  remember  the  act  seemed  ludicrous.  The  idea  of  pressing  the 
pace  when  every  horse  was  doing  his  uttermost !  I  had  hardly  time  to 
think  of  it  before  we  were  upon  them. 

"  They  had  had  no  chance  to  form  to  meet  us ;  indeed,  no  formation 
could  have  resisted  the  impetus  of  our  charge  down  that  sharp  declivity. 
A  few  shots  were  fired  into  us  before  we  struck  the  head  of  the  column. 
Not  many  of  them  were  armed  with  sabres.  A  group  of  officers  in 
front  drew,  some  revolvers  and  some  sabres,  and  stood  their  ground. 


52  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

Before  we  reached  them  the  whole  column  was  in  confusion, — those  in 
front  striving  to  pass  those  behind,  some  leaping  the  wall  at  the  side, 
their  horses  falling  headlong  as  they  struck,  and  others  crowding  back 
so  that  the  whole  weight  pressed  against  the  column  yet  on  the  valley 
road.  I  saw  one  man  pushed  off  the  bridge  before  we  had  come  close 
enough  to  strike  a  blow. 

"  Upon  this  confused  and  struggling  mass  we  fell  like  an  avalanche. 
I  was  afraid  for  an  instant  that  our  course  would  be  stayed  by  its  mere 
vis  inertice.  Had  the  entire  force  been  in  our  front,  this  must  have  been 
the  result.  As  it  was,  the  rear  of  the  column  was  helpless,  and  those 
in  front  at  once  became  our  unwilling  coadjutors.  We  dashed  among 
them,  cutting,  shouting,  spurring,  cursing !  It  seemed  as  if  every  man 
in  the  little  company  was  transformed  into  a  demon  ! 

"  The  rear  of  the  Confederate  column  was  utterly  powerless  to  help 
those  in  front.  They  could  not  fire  upon  us,  because  we  were  inex 
tricably  intermixed  with  their  comrades.  Indeed,  I  am  satisfied  that  a 
good  part  of  the  casualties  the  enemy  suffered  were  due  to  the  indis 
creet  firing  of  that  part  of  the  column  yet  upon  the  valley  road.  This 
was  soon  ended,  however,  by  the  pressure  of  the  frightened  horses  in 
front.  It  is  curious  how  quickly  the  war-horse  scents  defeat  and  how 
frantic  he  then  becomes  to  escape  from  danger.  Before  we  had  covered 
half  the  distance  from  where  the  head  of  their  column  halted  to  the 
intersecting  roadway,  those  still  in  our  front  were  struggling  only  to 
escape  from  our  onset. 

"  It  was  all  over  in  a  minute.  The  Confederates  were  fleeing  along 
the  road  they  had  come ;  a  few  dead  and  wounded  were  lying  upon  the 
hill-side ;  some  riderless  horses  were  running  wildly  about ;  and  we 
were  galloping  towards  the  town,  where  the  long  roll  was  beating  and 
our  pickets  were  creeping  cautiously  around  the  base  of  the  hill  that 
intervened." 

"  Were  none  of  your  men  hurt  ?"  I  inquired,  with  breathless  in 
terest. 

"  Every  one  except  my  servant  Jack.  He  was  in  the  rear  when 
the  fight  began,  but  was  the  first  to  reach  the  main  road,  I  think,  and 
led  us  by  a  wide  stretch  in  our  race  towards  the  town.  One  man  was 
killed,  two  badly  wounded,  and  all  the  rest  more  or  less  hurt.  The 
sergeant  lost  his  horse,  and  came  out  mounted  behind  me,  with  a  bullet 
through  his  left  hand.  It  was  lucky  for  me  that  I  gave  him  a  lift,  too : 
I  should  hardly  have  been  telling  the  story  now,  if  I  had  not." 


AN  UNLAWFUL  HONOR.  53 

"And  you?" 

"  Well,  I've  parted  my  hair  in  the  middle  ever  since,"  he  answered, 
with  a  blush,  lifting  the  short  brown  mass  that  lay  upon  his  temple  as 
he  spoke. 

Unnoticed  by  Mr.  Minton,  the  clerks  had  returned  from  luncheon 
one  by  one,  and  had  gathered  about  his  desk,  towards  which  his  back 
was  turned,  listening  to  the  narrative.  Even  Mr.  Swallow  had  been 
an  interested  listener  to  the  greater  part  of  it,  and  gave  the  signal  for 
the  hearty  round  of  applause  which  greeted  the  conclusion,  in  which 
all  joined  except  Bronson,  who  said,  surlily, — 

"  I  don't  see  what  that  has  to  do  with  the  bit  of  ribbon  you  were 
gushing  over  when  I  came  in." 

"  True  enough,"  said  Mr.  Swallow,  warmly.  "  I  suspect  you  have 
left  out  the  best  part  of  your  story." 

"  Oh,  there  is  nothing  more  worth  telling.  Of  course  we  were 
mentioned  in  orders.  The  sergeant  got  his  promotion,  as  he  deserved, 
before  his  bridle-hand  was  healed.  A  couple  of  weeks  afterwards,  our 
division  was  reviewed  by  the  general  commanding.  He  was  a  dashing 
man,  whom  we  all  loved.  When  he  came  to  the  right  of  our  brigade 
he  halted  and  spoke  a  word  to  the  officer  commanding.  Then  he  came 
on  down  the  line :  muskets  rattled  to  a  present,  and  swords  flashed  in 
salute.  When  he  came  opposite  the  colors  of  our  regiment,  he  halted, 
and  gave  the  command, — 

"  '  Recover — arms  !' 

"  I  started  as  if  struck  by  a  bullet  when  an  instant  afterwards  I 
heard  him  say, — 

"  '  Lieutenant  Jasper  Minton — to  the  front  and  centre — March  !' 

"  I  have  no  idea  how  I  got  there.  I  thought  'ten  thousand  thou 
sand  horrid  eyes  were  looking  down  in  blame.'  What  was  to  follow 
this  sudden  summons?  I  could  not  guess.  Presently  I  found  myself 
standing  close  beside  the  general's  horse,  my  sword  still  at  the  shoulder, 
while  I  awkwardly  saluted  with  my  left  hand. 

"  '  Lieutenant  Jasper  Minton  ?'  he  inquired. 

" '  Here,'  I  answered.     I  could  think  of  nothing  else  to  say. 

<(  He  leaned  quickly  forward,  pinned  this  ribbon  on  the  breast  of 
my  coat,  and,  taking  off  his  hat  with  a  quick  motion  peculiar  to  him, 
said, — 

" '  For  gallant  conduct  in  attacking  a  greatly  superior  force  of  tlu 
enemy.' 

5* 


54  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

"  His  staff  had  uncovered  too.  I  heard  the  roll  of  drums  behind 
me,  and  the  command  ran  down  the  line, — 

"  '  Present — arms  !' 

"  I  stood  still,  dazed,  confounded  by  what  had  happened. 

"  *  Lieutenant  Minton,  to  your  post — March  !" 

"  I  saluted  and  turned  away.  The  general  and  his  brilliant  stiff 
rattled  by  me  as  I  marched  down  the  line  to  my  station.  It  was  only 
a  bit  of  ribbon,  but  I  prize  it  more  to-day  than  any  token  of  rank  I 
ever  won.  A  month  afterwards  I  was  forbidden  to  wear  the  bauble, 
under  penalty  of  dismissal  from  the  service." 

"  So  you  sent  it  to  your  sweetheart." 

"  No ;  I  kept  on  wearing  it." 

"  And  were  you  dismissed  ?" 

"  In  consideration  of  good  conduct  I  was  allowed  to  resign,  '  for 
the  good  of.  the  service !'  " 

"  But  why  wouldn't  they  let  you  wear  it,  boy  ?"  asked  Burrill,  who 
had  been  mopping  the  tears  from  his  face  for  twenty  minutes  while 
listening  to  Minton's  story. 

"  It  was  held  to  be  in  conflict  with  the  Constitution  of  the  United 
States,  Article  I.,  Section  9,  Subdivision  8,"  answered  Minton,  with 
his  usual  half-contemptuous  tone,  as  he  returned  the  decoration  to  its 
case. 

"  '  No  title  of  nobility  shall  be  granted/  etc.,  etc.,"  mumbled  Burrill, 
glancing  deferentially  at  Mr.  Swallow.  Though  but  a  naturalized 
citizen,  Burrill  was  probably  the  only  man  in  the  office  who  could  have 
given  the  key-words  of  the  section. 

"  Fudge  !"  was  the  junior  partner's  comment  upon  the  law  cited  by 
the  old  clerk. 

"  How  did  you  get  that  other  beauty-spot  ?"  asked  the  chief  clerk, 
with  a  sneer. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Bronson,"  said  Minton,  significantly,  "  some  were  as 
anxious  to  get  into  the  army  as  others  were  to  get  out  of  it.  Though 
I  left  '  for  the  good  of  the  service/  nobody  thought  it  was  to  avoid 
danger.  The  governor  of  Vermont  happened  to  hear  of  my  queer 
plight  in  being  compelled  to  resign  because  I  had  been  commended  for 
good  conduct,  and  offered  me  a  place  in  the  new  brigade  they  were 
raising,  in  my  native  State :  so  I  went  in  again." 

Bronson  turned  away  and  strode  across  the  room  to  his  desk.  The 
other  clerks  sauntered  off  to  resume  their  labors.  After  a  moment's 


AN  UNLAWFUL  HONOR.  65 

conversation  about  some  papers  he  held  in  his  hand,  Mr.  Swallow 
said, — 

"  I  should  like  to  see  you  in  Mr.  Gauge's  room  for  a  moment,  Mr. 
Minton." 

Minton  closed  his  desk  methodically  and  followed  him  to  the  Senior's 
room. 

"  Prepare  to  salute  the  new  partner,"  said  Bronson,  with  a  malicious 
grin,  as  the  door  closed  behind  them.  "  Can  you  whistle  '  Hail  to  the 
Chief/  Mr.  Fountain?  or  shall  I  get  the  office-boy  to  do  it  when  he 
comes  out?" 

I  made  no  answer  to  the  taunt,  which  I  considered  an  insult,  as  I 
never  whistle.  Work  dragged,  because  all  eyes  kept  wandering  to  the 
door  of  Mr.  Gauge's  room.  It  was  more  than  an  hour  before  it  opened 
and  Jasper  Minton  came  out  alone.  There  was  nothing  to  be  read  in 
his  countenance  as  he  walked  back  to  his  desk.  Bronson  watched  him 
until  he  addressed  himself  to  his  work,  then  slipped  off  his  stool  and 
went  to  Mr.  Swallow's  room. 

"Did  they  offer  you  a  partnership,  my  boy?"  asked  old  Burrill, 
leaning  across  the  railing  and  speaking  in  an  anxious  whisper. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Minton,  cheerfully. 

"  Good  !  good  !  Give  me  your  hand  !"  said  the  old  man,  heartily. 
"  When  is  it  to  begin  ?" 

"  Not  at  all,  Burrill,"  answered  the  younger  man,  almost  tenderly. 
"I  declined." 

"  Declined  !     Declined  a  partnership  with  Gauge  &  Swallow  I" 

"  I  had  to  do  it,  Burrill,"  said  the  other,  firmly. 

"Well,  well,  well!" 

The  old  man  groped  his  way  back  to  his  desk  and  sat  down  as  if 
he  had  received  an  unexpected  blow.  A  thrill  of  astonishment  almost 
akin  to  horror  ran  round  the  circle  of  listening  clerks. 


III. 

A  RETAINER  IN  CUPID'S  COURT. 

fTIHEKE  is  no  place  like  a  lawyer's  office  for  taking  the  conceit  out 
JL  of  a  man  and  teaching  him  that  he  knows  very  little  about  any 
thing  and  nothing  at  all  about  what  a  lawyer  is  supposed  to  know 
most, — human  nature.  Men  who  sit  in  the  library,  or  the  counting- 
house  even,  and  look  at  humanity  through  plate-glass  windows,  are  apt 
to  be  very  positive  in  their  opinions  on  this  subject.  It  is  a  favorite 
idea  with  mental  philosophers,  novelists,  political  economists,  and 
dreamers  of  all  sorts,  that  human  nature  is  always  the  same.  The 
lawyer  knows  that  the  rule  of  contraries  is  quite  as  often  the  key  to  its 
mysterious  action. 

He  sees  day  by  day  the  wise  man  doing  what  a  fool  should  have 
sense  enough  to  avoid;  the  tenderest-hearted  committing  acts  which 
put  to  shame  the  brutality  of  the  most  debased  ;  the  innocent  showing 
every  sign  of  guilt  and  the  guilty  wearing  the  guileless  air  of  inno 
cence  ;  the  most  wary  doing  the  most  imprudent  things ;  the  shrewdest 
displaying  the  most  amazing  credulity;  the  most  transparent  frauds 
deceiving  the  most  astute ;  the  most  well-meaning  committing  the  most 
atrocious  crimes  : — in  fact,  human  nature  showing  itself  to  be  just  what 
those  who  claim  to  know  most  about  the  article  are  ready  to  swear  that 
it  is  not. 

So  he  comes  to  regard  right  and  wrong,  sanity  and  insanity,  reason 
and  unreason,  as  merely  relative  terms,  so  far  as  motive  and  inclination 
are  concerned.  The  drama  of  life,  as  he  sees  it,  is  so  startling  in  its 
intensity  and  variety  that  he  regards  its  tragedies  and  comedies  as  mere 
matter-of-course  events,  which  are  of  no  significance  except  as  guide- 
boards  to  indicate  the  line  of  his  duty.  He  is  not  unsympathetic, — in 
fact,  he  is  usually  the  very  reverse, — but  his  sympathy  is  held  in  check 
by  his  judgment,  and  his  confidence  by  the  knowledge  that  few  men 
can  tell  the  exact  truth  even  in  that  confessional  where  self-interest 

56 


A  RETAINER  IN  CUPID'S  COURT.  57 

most  strongly  impels  to  verity, — a  consultation  with  one's  legal  ad 
viser.  He  expects  his  client  to  lie  to  him,  and  only  believes  what  he 
may  say  when  he  has  fully  tested  his  capacity  for  truth-telling. 

No  man  understood  this  better  than  our  Mr.  Swallow.  It  was  nat 
ural,  therefore,  that  a  cynical  smile  should  play  about  his  lips  when  one 
morning  the  office-boy  rushed  into  his  presence  as  if  shot  from  a  cata 
pult  and  placed  upon  the  desk  before  him  a  letter  and  a  card,  exclaim 
ing,  breathlessly, — 

"r£o  see  Mr.  Swallow — upon  important  business!" 

He  knew  the  rascal  had  loitered  through  the  outer  room  worrying 
the  clerks  as  it  is  the  nature  of  the  gamin  to  do,  and  was  now  in 
dulging  in  mild  ridicule  of  the  feeling  every  client  has,  that  his  own 
affair  is  one  of  overshadowing  importance,  not  only  to  himself,  but  also 
to  his  legal  adviser. 

Mr.  Swallow  read  the  letter,  while  the  watchful  boy  twisted  his 
legs  about  each  other  and  purloined  a  pencil,  an  adhesive  seal,  and 
some  other  small  articles  from  the  desk.  The  letter  was  on  commercial 
paper,  having  the  printed  heading 

FIELD,  ORD  &  FIELD, 

CAEPETS. 
The  card  read, — 


"  Show  him  in,"  said  Mr.  Swallow,  sharply,  as  he  laid  the  letter  on 
his  desk. 

"Yes,  sir,"  answered  the  boy,  with  innocent  promptness,  as  he 
pocketed  the  trifles  he  had  filched  and  disappeared  with  unwonted 
alacrity. 

He  soon  returned  with  a  young  man,  for  whom  he  pushed  a  chair 
to  the  side  of  Mr.  Swallow's  desk. 

"  Mr.  Field,  I  suppose  ?"  said  the  Junior,  turning  towards  him  after 
the  boy  had  gone.  His  elbows  rested  on  the  arms  of  his  revolving 
chair,  his  head  was  bent  forward,  his  fingers  loosely  interlocked,  while 
he  scanned  the  young  man  as  if  he  had  been  a  witness  who  was  trying 
to  dodge  the  truth. 

"  Yes,  sir.     You  know  our  firm,  I  think  £" 

C* 


58  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

"  I  know  its  rating,"  said  Mr.  Swallow,  sententiously. 

The  young  man  bowed  at  what  he  deemed  a  compliment.  Mr. 
Swallow  would  have  said  the  same  thing  of  any  firm  in  the  country. 
He  was  a  walking  Bradstreet,  and  proud  of  the  fact.  Now,  however, 
he  was  studying  his  man  and  unconscious  of  the  flattering  construction 
that  had  been  put  on  his  words. 

"  You  have  only  recently  become  a  partner,  I  believe  ?" 

"  A  little  more  than  a  year  ago." 

"  It  used  to  be  Field,  Haskell  &  Ord,  if  I  remember  rightly?" 

"  Yes ;  Mr.  Haskell  died  just  after  he  withdrew, — about  two  years 
ago." 

"  1  had  a  case  for  them  once, — a  good  many  years  ago.  I  have  not 
met  your  father  since,  but  remember  him  very  pleasantly." 

Still  the  lawyer's  face  did  not  relax,  and  his  voice  had  a  repellent 
tone  which  did  not  escape  his  hearer's  notice. 

"  You  have  read  his  letter  ?"  he  asked,  uneasily. 

"  Yes,  and,  while  I  should  be  happy  to  serve  him,  I  may  as  well 
say  to  you  at  the  outset  that  I  do  not  think  we  can  take  your  business." 
Mr.  Swallow  looked  at  the  young  man  with  compassionate  decision  as 
he  spoke. 

"Indeed?"  said  his  listener,  anxiously.  "May  I  inquire  why 
not?" 

"  Well,  you  see,  Mr.  Field,"  said  the  Junior,  pursing  up  his  mouth 
and  looking  out  of  the  window  meditatively,  "  if  it  was  actual  business, 
there  would  be  no  hesitation.  We  are  business  lawyers,  and  always 
ready  for  business ;  but  we  try  to  keep  out  of  the  police  courts,  and 
especially  seek  to  avoid  every  sort  of  case  that  has  a  woman  in  it.  If 
a  regular  client  gets  into  trouble  of  that  kind  we  stand  by  him,  of 
course ;  but  we  don't  hanker  after  that  sort  of  practice,  you  under 
stand." 

"  But  there  is  nothing  discreditable "  began  the  would-be  client. 

"  Oh,  certainly  not,"  interrupted  the  lawyer,  with  a  little  outward 
fling  of  the  hands  and  a  shrug  that  almost  buried  his  head  in  the  mas 
sive  shoulders  on  which  it  rested.  "  Nobody  ever  thinks  his  business 
is  discreditable  to  his  attorneys.  Gauge  &  Swallow  have  a  reputation, 
however,  that  has  to  be  maintained.  Do  you  see  the  names  on  those 
boxes  there  ?"  motioning  to  a  row  of  tin  cases  that  adorned  the  sides 
of  the  vault,  the  door  of  which  stood  open  at  his  right.  "  We  could  not 
keep  such  names  on  OUP  list  of  clients  if  we  were  mixed  up  in  all  sorts 


A  DETAINER  IN  CUPID'S  COURT.  59 

of  questionable  affairs.  I  understand  from  your  father's  letter  that  you 
want  our  advice  about  a  woman  who  has  disappeared.  Now,  we  don't 
deal  in  divorces,  nor  manufacture  evidence,  nor  persecute  women.  We 
sometimes  defend  criminals,  but  we  never  devise  crime  nor  aid  in  carry 
ing  out  criminal  schemes.  You  have  come  to  the  wrong  shop,  young 
man.  The  only  advice  we  could  give  you  would  be  to  stand  up  to  the 
rack.  If  you  have  made  a  fool  of  yourself,  grin  and  bear  it ;  but  don't 
try  to  use  the  law  to  throw  the  burden  of  your  folly  or  your  meanness 
on  another,  especially  a  woman." 

The  Junior  straightened  himself  up  and  threw  the  young  man's 
card  into  his  lap  with  a  look  of  angry  contempt  as  he  concluded.  The 
honor  of  the  firm  is  as  the  apple  of  his  eye  to  the  great  advocate,  and 
his  sense  of  justice  is  so  keen  as  to  amount  almost  to  a  passion. 

"  But  I  don't  want  a  divorce,  nor  do  I  wish  to  do  any  wrong,  nor 
to  procure  it  to  be  done/'  answered  the  young  man,  with  some  confu 
sion,  but  with  unmistakable  resentment. 

"  What  do  you  want,  then  ?"  asked  the  lawyer,  incredulously. 

"  I  want  to  find  a — a  friend, — a  lady  wjio  has  suddenly  disappeared ; 
dropped  out  of  the  world,  as  one  might  say." 

"  And  when  you  have  found  her,  then  what  ?"  still  incredulously. 

"  That  depends "  said  Field,  hesitantly. 

"  Oh,  it  does  ?"  interrupted  Mr.  Swallow.  "  Don't  tell  me  another 
word.  I  know  the  whole  story,  and  don't  want  to  hear  any  more 
about  it." 

"  But  you  shall  hear,"  said  his  listener,  angrily,  starting  from  his 
chair.  "  I  don't  care  whether  you  take  the  case  or  not,  but  I  am  not 
going  to  submit  to  your  insinuations  any  longer.  I  came  here  at  my 
father's  express  desire.  He  said  you  were  a  just  man  and  would  advise 
me  honestly.  I  was  willing  to  put  myself  in  your  hands  and  do  what 
ever  you  thought  an  honorable  man  should  do ;  but  I  can't  stand  such, 
imputations." 

"  Is  the  woman  your  wife  ?"  asked  the  lawyer,  imperturbably. 

"  I— I  don't  know,"  half  defiantly. 

"  Oh,  you  don't  ?"  with  a  sneer.  "  You  were  deceived,  inveigled, 
betrayed  into  a  form  of  marriage,  I  suppose.  Or  is  it  that  stale  old 
story  of  a  mock  marriage  turning  out  a  real  one  ?  At  any  rate,  you 
are  no  doubt  an  innocent  victim  of  a  wicked  woman's  wiles." 

"  I  am  not  a  victim,  and  do  not  pretend  to  be  innocent,"  said  the 
other,  doggedly. 


60  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

"You  don't?  "Well,  you  are  an  anomaly.  Sit  down  and  let  me 
look  at  you  again.  If  you  could  find  the  lady  now,  you  would  be  glad 
to  make  her  your  wife,  I  suppose,  assuming  that  she  is  not  legally  so 
already,  endow  her  with  your  earthly  goods,  and  clothe  Ler  with  all 
marital  privileges  ?" 

"  Nothing  would  give  me  greater  pleasure." 

"  Indeed !  But  how  about  your  father  ?  He  speaks  of  it  as  a 
disgraceful  affair." 

"  He  means  upon  my  part,  not  upon  the  lady's." 

"And  he  would  be  willing  you  should  marry  the — lady?" 

"  He  threatens  me  with  his  disfavor  if  I  do  not." 

"  The  devil !  That's  a  new  feature.  Why  didn't  you  tell  me  that 
before?" 

"  You  wouldn't  let  me  tell  you  anything." 

"  Well,  there's  something  in  that,"  said  Mr.  Swallow,  with  his 
characteristic  chuckle.  "  You  say  you  want  to  find  a  woman  who  may 
be  your  wife  or  ought  to  be ;  whom,  if  not  already  such,  you  desire  to 
make  so,  and  whom  your  father  and  family  are  willing  to  receive." 

"Exactly." 

"  Were  you  the  cause  of  her  disappearance  ?" 

"  I  suppose  so,"  said  the  young  man,  confusedly. 

"  See  here,  Mr.  Field,"  said  Mr.  Swallow,  jocosely,  "  I  don't  see 
how  we  can  help  you.  We  can't  do  your  courting  for  you  nor  make 
up  a  lovers'  quarrel." 

"  You  can  help  me  to  find  the  lady  and  advise  me  what  to  do  after 
wards,"  said  the  other,  smiling  at  the  lawyer's  jest. 

"  We  are  not  detectives,  Mr.  Field." 

"  But  you  can  employ  detectives." 

"  So  can  you,  for  that  matter." 

"  Not  without  compromising  one  who  has  suffered  too  much  already 
by  my  stupidity." 

"You  think  so?"  said  Mr.  Swallow,  meditatively,  adding,  after  a 
moment,  "  Well,  I  don't  know,  Mr.  Field ;  it's  out  of  our  line,  but 
if  you  have  a  mind  to  tell  me  the  whole  matter  from  the  beginning, 
not  mentioning  names,  of  course,  if  the  story  seems  probable,  and  I 
think  we  can  be  of  service  to  you,  we — that  is,  I  will  talk  with  Mr. 
Gauge  about  it.  If  we  'don't  undertake  the  business  there  will  be  no 
harm  done." 


A  RETAINER  IN  CUPID'S  COURT.  61 

The  young  man  bowed  assent  to  these  conditions.  Mr.  Swallow 
touched  his  bell. 

"  I  shall  be  engaged  for  half  an  hour,"  he  said  to  the  boy  who 
answered  his  call. — "  Now  go  on,  Mr.  Field.  Make  your  story  as 
short  as  you  can,  but  tell  it  all  ;  don't  hide  anything." 

"  I  have  no  wish  to  do  so,"  was  the  reply. 

After  a  moment's  silence,  the  young  man  proceeded  : 

"  It  was  three  years  ago,  that  a  young  lady,  the  daughter  of  one  of 
our  neighbors,  was  placed  in  my  care  to  escort  to  some  Western  rela 
tives  she  wished  to  visit.  She  was  a  mere  girl,  not  more  than  fifteen 
or  sixteen,  though  she  appeared  several  years  older.  I  had  known  her 
from  childhood,  and  was  exceedingly  fond  of  her.  Being,  a  good  ten 
years  older,  I  can  hardly  be  said  to  have  been  a  suitor.  Even  when  a 
child,  however,  I  had  called  her  my  little  sweetheart,  and  she  had 
vowed  over  and  over  again  with  infantile  abandon  that  she  would  never 
marry  any  one  but  me.  Our  country-place  adjoined  her  father's  resi 
dence,  and  the  families  were  on  terms  of  intimacy.  Though  her  father's 
circumstances  were  rather  straitened,  her  education  had  not  been  neg 
lected.  It  was  not  then  completed,  which  was  perhaps  the  reason  why 
I  had  never  thought  of  her  except  as  a  school-girl. 

"  I  was  travelling  for  the  house  then,  having  a  couple  of  Western 
States  assigned  to  me  which  I  was  required  to  canvass  every  spring  and 
autumn.  The  relatives  she  was  to  visit  lived  in  one  of  these  States,  and 
it  was  the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world  that  she  should  be  placed  in 
my  care  to  make  the  journey.  She  had  never  been  away  from  home  be 
fore  ;  and  I  suppose,  if  the  truth  were  known,  it  was  the  attraction  of 
reduced  rates  on  excursion-tickets  that  led  her  parents  to  allow  her  to 
go.  I  am  sure  she  would  not  have  been  permitted  to  do  so  except  with 
one  in  whom  they  had  the  utmost  confidence.  It  was  arranged  that  she 
should  buy  a  ticket  to  the  Falls  and  return:  at  that  point  she  was  to 
get  l  a  scalper's'  ticket  to  the  Western  city  near  her  destination,  and  on 
Irer  return  to  sell,  at  the  same  place,  the  unused  coupons  of  a  round-trip 
ticket  she  would  purchase  at  the  West.  This  compelled  a  stop  at  the 
Falls,  going  and  returning,  but  made  the  trip  a  very  inexpensive  one, 
and  this  delay  wras  not  regarded  as  any  hardship  by  a  young  girl  who 
had  never  seen  the  mist  of  Niagara.  I  am  careful  to  explain  these 
things,  sir,  in  order  that  you  may  understand  that  what  afterwards 
occurred  was  not  of  my  planning. 

"  We  had  intended  to  pass  through  New  York  without  stopping 
6 


62  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

more  than  a  few  hours ;  but,  as  luck  would  have  it,  when  we  reached 
the  junction  the  train  from  the  North  had  brought  a  maiden  aunt  of 
mine  who  lived  up  in  the  Berkshire  Hills,  on  her  way  to  the  metropolis. 
When  a  boy  I  had  passed  one  or  two  summers  under  her  roof,  but,  as 
there  was  not  the  very  best  of  feeling  between  her  and  my  mother, 
there  had  been  very  little  intercourse  between  her  and  the  family  since. 
I  had  visited  her  once  or  twice,  and  every  Christmas  sent  her  a  present 
and  received  in  return  a  letter  expressive  of  the  warmest  and  tenderest 
affection.  Thus  I  was  the  sole  medium  of  communication  between  her 
and  our  family. 

u  I  had  jokingly  promised  that  when  I  married  I  would  bring  my 
bride  to  visit  her  upon  our  wedding-journey,  of  which  fact  she  never 
failed  to  remind  me  when  she  wrote.  She  was  a  most  excellent  lady, 
and,  except  her  attachment  for  me  and  a  pretty  large  share  of  curiosity, 
had  hardly  a  foible.  I  recognized  her  as  soon  as  she  entered  the  car, 
and  went  forward  to  take  her  bundles,  intending  to  give  her  a  place  in 
the  double  seat  we  had  taken.  As  I  turned  back  from  greeting  my 
relative,  it  flashed  upon  me  for  the  first  time  that  my  companion  had 
grown  from  a  very  pretty  girl  into  a  beautiful  woman.  I  knew  then 
that  T  had  loved  her  ever  since  I  could  remember,  almost,  and  some 
how  felt  that  she  had  the  same  feeling  for  me.  I  noticed  that  her  light- 
gray  travelling-suit  with  the  silvery  veil  knotted  at  her  throat  gave  her 
a  very  bride-like  appearance,  and  thought  with  quiet  pleasure  that  I 
would  some  time  take  a  journey  with  her  in  a  nearer  relation.  She  rose 
as  I  returned  with  my  aunt  and  stood  with  her  hand  half-extended, 
awaiting  an  introduction.  I  suppose  some  exclamation  I  had  made 
informed  her  who  it  was  that  I  had  recognized.  My  aunt  flashed  one 
glance. at  this  charming  picture  and  jumped  to  a  startling  conclusion 
which  she  announced  in  tones  audible  to  the  whole  car. 

"  '  Ah,  you  naughty  boy  !'  she  exclaimed.  '  Didn't  you  promise  to 
bring  your  wife  to  see  me  on  your  bridal  trip?' 

"  For  the  life  of  me  I  could  not  help  blushing.  My  companion's 
face  was  all  aflame,  but  her  eyes  sought  mine  with  a  look  of  amused 
confidence.  More  to  relieve  her  embarrassment  than  my  own,  I  said, 
as  I  tried  to  induce  my  garrulous  relative  to  sit  down, — 

" '  Oh,  I  hadn't  forgotten  you,  auntie :  we  were  corning  your  way 
on  the  return  trip.' 

"'I  don't  believe  it,  sir!'  she  exclaimed,  in  half-assumed  anger. 
'You  didn't  think  a  word  about  me.  I  never  gotrau  invitation,  nor  a 


A  RETAINER  IN  CUPID'S  COURT.  63 

piece  of  cake,  nor  had  any  intimation  of  the  matter  at  all.  Though/ 
she  added,  as  if  she  would  give  me  a  chance  to  excuse  my  neglect,  '  I've 
been  away  from  home  pretty  near  a  month,  and  might  have  missed  it 
if  it  had  been  sent/ 

"  We  were  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  car.  The  passengers 
were  inspecting  us  with  that  kindly  curiosity  always  bestowed  upon  a 
bridal  party.  I  wished  the  train  would  start  or  my  loud-voiced  rela 
tive  be  struck  dumb.  Neither  event  seemed  likely  to  occur.  What 
could  I  do  but  humor  the  good  woman's  self-deception?  I  could  not 
bawl  out  to  that  car-load  of  spectators  that  we  were  not  bride  and 
groom  ;  that  we  were  only  acquaintances, — friends.  Our  flushed  faces 
betrayed  us,  and  their  kindly  interest  would  have  turned  to  unkindly 
ridicule  had  I  done  so.  I  could  only  answer  as  I  did,  in  as  careless 
a  tone  as  I  could  command  : 

" '  That's  the  reason.  You'll  find  everything  will  turn  up  O.  K. 
on  your  return.' 

"  My  aunt  looked  at  me  doubtingly. 

"  '  I  don't  know  about  believing  you/  she  said.  '  A  man  is  apt  to 
forget  everything  but  himself  at  such  a  time. — Is  he  telling  the  truth?' 
she  asked,  turning  suddenly  to  my  companion.  '  Did  he  ever  speak  of 
me  ?' 

"How  grateful  I  felt  when  the  blushing  girl  answered,  in  tones 
more  composed  than  I  could  have  imagined  possible, — 

"'Oh,  certainly:  I  feel  quite  well  acquainted  with  you.  You  arc 
Aunt  Keziah,  are  you  not  ?' 

" '  Of  course  I  am/  said  the  delighted  spinster,  her  doubts  now 
wholly  removed.  '  And  what  is  your  name,  dear?' 

"  My  companion  murmured  her  given  name,  and  my  relative  em 
braced  her  with  great  effusion.  I  looked  about  the  car  to  see  if  any  of 
my  acquaintances  were  aboard  to  witness  my  discomfiture.  Not  a  single 
familiar  face !  Then  I  remembered  that  it  was  afternoon,  and  I  was 
accustomed  to  come  into  the  city  on  the  early  morning  train.  I  felt 
relieved,  thinking  I  could  easily  undeceive  my  fond  old  relative  when 
opportunity  offered. 

"  '  Sit  down,  auntie/  I  said,  gayly,  as  the  train  started,  making  room 
for  her  on  the  seat  beside  my  friend. 

"  '  No,  no/  she  remonstrated,  '  I  shan't  sit  there.  I  couldn't  think 
of  separating  young  married  people.  Besides  that,  I  want  you  both 
where  I  can  look  at  you.  I  declare,  Frank,  it  makes  me  real  glad.  I 


64  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

never  thought  you  could  persuade  such  a  refined  and  handsome  lady 
to  take  pity  on  a  confirmed  old  bachelor. — There,  there,  don't  blush, 
my  dear  !  Every  one  knows  you  are  handsome,  and  every  one  knows, 
too,  that  you  are  a  bride. — Really,  Frank,  I  don't  blame  you.  I  think 
I  am  in  love  with  her  myself  already.7 

"  This  and  much  more  we  had  to  face  on  the  way  to  the  city.  I 
could  not  tell  the  good  lady  of  her  mistake  without  taking  all  the 
people  in  the  car  into  our  confidence  and  unnecessarily  mortifying  my 
aunt,  of  whom  I  was  really  very  fond.  My  companion  appreciated  my 
dilemma,  and  helped  me  with  a  ready  tact  that  inspired  my  gratitude 
and  confirmed  my  love.  But  there  was  even  worse  to  come.  Learning 
that  we  were  to  go  to  Chicago  via  Niagara  Falls,  she  announced  her  in 
tention  to  make  us  her  guests  until  our  departure.  As  she  could  not 
receive  us  at  home,  she  would  at  least  make  us  the  recipient  of  a  sort 
of  hospitality  in  the  city.  She  informed  us  also  that  she  was  herself 
on  her  way  to  Oregon  to  take  charge  of  the  family  of  a  deceased  rela 
tive,  and  would  go  on  with  us  the  next  day  if  we  would  wait.  She 
had  sold  the  old  homestead,  she  said,  and  very  probably  we  would 
never  see  her  again.  This,  of  course,  made  it  impossible  to  refuse  her 
kindness,  as  no  good  reason  could  be  given  for  doing  so.  Besides,  I 
was  not  unwilling  to  prolong  a  journey  which  offered  such  delightful 
opportunity  to  enjoy  the  society  of  the  woman  I  had  just  learned  to  love. 

"  Though  not  a  woman  one  would  expect  to  meet  in  society,  my 
aunt  knew  the  hotels  of  the  metropolis,  and  was  known  of  them.  I 
had  to  look  after  the  baggage  on  our  arrival,  and  there  was  no  chance 
to  explain  the  mistake  until  we  reached  the  hotel.  Here  she  waved  us 
authoritatively  to  the  waiting-room,  while  she  stepped  to  the  clerk's 
desk  and  registered.  It  did  not  occur  to  me  for  a  minute  in  what 
a  dilemma  we  might  be  placed.  To  tell  the  truth,  I  was  so  glad  to  be 
alone  a  moment  with  my  new-found  love  that  I  could  think  of  little 
else.  When  I  did  recover  my  wits  and  rushed  out  to  the  desk,  the 
mischief  was  done.  None  but  a  bridegroom  was  ever  met  with  such  a 
look  of  commiserating  condescension  as  the  clerk  bestowed  upon  me. 
It  was  as  unmistakable  as  my  aunt's  proud  smile.  Edging  up  to  the 
register,  I  saw  the  entry,  '  Mr.  Frank  Field  &  Wife/  in  my  aunt's 
rather  formidable  chirography.  There  was  no  mistaking  its  import, 
however.  A  room  had  been  assigned  to  her,  and  another  to  the  sup 
posed  bridal  couple.  All  I  could  do  was  to  manoeuvre  for  another 
still.  This  I  secured  by  telling  my  aunt  that  I  had  telegraphed  for  a 


A  RETAINER  IN  CUPID'S  COURT.  65 

friend  to  meet  me,  to  whom  I  must  send  a  messenger,  as  I  had  intended 
to  dine  at  another  hotel.  As  I  had  some  business  with  him,  I  informed 
her  that  I  should  ask  him  to  stay  and  go  with  us  to  the  theatre.  So  I 
secured  the  key  to  a  room  adjoining  those  already  assigned,  and  that 
difficulty  was  tided  over  without  a  scene." 

"  Did  the  girl  know  of  the  registration  ?" 

"  Not  at  the  time." 

"  While  you  were  at  the  hotel,  I  mean." 

"  I  told  her  that  night  between  the  acts  at  the  theatre." 

"  Of  course  !"  growled  Mr.  Swallow.  "Let  a  man  alone  for  being 
a  fool,  whenever  he  gets  a  chance  !  Go  on." 

It  is  curious  how  quickly  a  lawyer  comes  to  identify  himself  with 
the  client  whose  interest  he  has  espoused, 

"It  happened,"  continued  Field,  "  that  my  aunt's  preference  in  the 
matter  of  hotels  did  not  correspond  with  mine,  so  that  I  met  nobody 
whom  I  knew." 

"  I  suppose  you  made  no  new  acquaintances  ?" 

"  My  aunt  did  introduce  us  to  several  people." 

"As  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Field,  I  suppose?" 

"  Yes.     You  see,  I  couldn't— 

"  Don't  stop  to  excuse  yourself !"  savagely.     "Goon." 

"  Nothing  more  happened  worth  mentioning  until  we  reached  the 
Falls." 

"  There  you  registered  again  in  the  same  way,  I  suppose?" 

"Yes.  I  was  afraid  to  do  otherwise,  lest  my  garrulous  relative 
should  get  us  into  trouble." 

"  Certainly.  One  lie  makes  a  man  a  coward  for  ever  afterwards. 
Did  the  girl  know  it  this  time  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  explained  to  her  before  we  arrived  just  how  I  was  situated." 

"  And  she  assented  ?" 

"  I  suppose  so.     She  did  not  object." 

"Did  she  say  anything  about  it?" 

"  Well,  yes :  the  next  day  when  I  apologized  for  the  awkwardness 
of  the  situation  and  said  I  hoped  she  would  allow  me  to  accompany  her 
some  time  on  a  real  wedding  journey,  she  granted  my  request,  but  said, 
with  shy  solemnity,  that  it  seemed  to  her  as  if  we  were  married  already." 

"  So  you  were  !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Swallow.  "  Talk  about  a  woman's 
instinct !  You  were  a  man  of  the  world,  she  an  unpractised  child,  but 
she  knew  you  were  married,  while  you  never  dreamed  you  had  assumed 


66  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

a  husband's  responsibility.  Ten  to  one  she  kept  herself  thenceforward 
from  all  others,  as  if  the  sacrament  of  the  church  had  hallowed  your 
union." 

"She  did,"  continued  the  young  man,  humbly.  "We  bade  my 
aunt  good-by  in  Chicago,"  he  continued,  "went  to  a  hotel,  and  re 
sumed  our  proper  characters ;  drove  about  the  city  until  the  time  for 
our  train,  and  were  happier — at  least  I  was — than  I  had  ever  been 
before." 

"Well,  what  next?" 

"  She  returned  about  a  month  afterwards." 

"  You  made  it  convenient  to  come  with  her,  I  suppose  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  And  you  registered  at  the  Falls  again  as  man  and  wife  ?" 

"  I  did  not  dare  risk  doing  otherwise." 

"  Of  course  ;  you  are  not  the  first  coward.     Well  ?" 

"  She  went  back  to  school,  and  I  saw  her  but  seldom.  After  Mr. 
Haskell's  death  I  went  abroad." 

"  You  gave  no  explanation  to  any  one  ?" 

"No." 

"  You  announced  your  engagement  to  her  parents  ?" 

"  I  am  sorry  to  say  we  did  not." 

"  You  corresponded,  of  course  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  How  did  you  address  her, — in  your  letters,  I  mean  ?" 

"  As  a  lover  naturally  would,  I  suppose,"  said  Field,  blushing 
furiously. 

"  No,  you  didn't !"  exclaimed  Swallow,  fiercely.  "  You  addressed 
her  as  your  wife.  Didn't  you,  now  ?  Don't  dodge  !" 

"  I  don't  wish  to,  sir.  I  did,  though  it  was  only  a  jesting  allusion 
to  our  queer  adventure." 

"  Of  course ;  you  didn't  mean  anything.  A  man  never  does  when 
he  is  in  love.  What  did  the  girl  do?  Did  she  follow  your  example 
and  address  you  as  her  husband  ?  I'll  stake  odds  she  didn't." 

"  She  used  my  Christian  name, — or  a  dash." 

"  My  dear — blank,  I  suppose  you  mean  ?" 

The  young  man  nodded. 

"  I  vow  !"  said  Mr.  Swallow,  springing  to  his  feet.  "  You  stir  my 
admiration  for  her  good  sense.  A  blank  may  mean  anything  or  nothing. 


A  RETAINER  IN  CUPID'S  COURT.  67- 

It  is  a  hieroglyph,  to  be  construed  according  to  the  context  and — cir 
cumstances.  Well,  what  next?  Really,  this  is  growing  interesting." 

"  A  few  months  ago  my  aunt  returned  from  Oregon " 

"  Whew  !"  whistled  the  lawyer.     "  And  you  ?" 

"  I  was  coming  home  by  way  of  Constantinople  and  Egypt,  and 
knew  nothing  of  it.  No  one  knew  where  to  address  me,  and  I  have 
only  just  arrived.  The  lady's  father  was  very  angry  with  her,  and  very 
violent,  refusing  to  listen  to  any  explanation ;  denounced  me  to  my 
parents,  sold  everything  he  had,  and  sailed  for  Europe.  His  daughter 
went  on  board  the  steamer  with  her  parents,  but  after  it  sailed  could 
not  be  found." 

"  Dead  ?"  asked  Swallow,  in  a  horrified  tone. 

"  I  do  not  think  so,"  said  Field,  growing  pale  nevertheless.  "  On 
my  return  I  received  a  letter  from  her,  asking  me  to  be  content  with 
what  I  had  done,  and  not  insult  her  by  thinking  of  her  again." 

"  Where  was  it  mailed  ?" 

"  It  was  forwarded  by  her  father  from  London." 

"  Does  he  know  her  whereabouts  ?" 

"  I  think  not.  He  refuses  to  hold  any  communication  at  all  with 
me,  however :  so  I  am  not  sure." 

"Well?" 

"That  is  all." 

"  And  you  want ?" 

"  First  of  all,  to -find  this  lady,"  handing  Mr.  Swallow  a  photograph. 
"Next,  to  know  what  relation  I  sustain  to  her." 

"  The  last  is  easily  told,  Mr.  Field.  Having  acknowledged  her  as 
your  wife,  you  cannot,  according  to  the  law  of  this  State,  avoid  the 
responsibility  of  the  relation  you  assumed.  The  law  presumes  the  con 
tract  of  marriage  from  its  acknowledgment, — so  far  as  the  man  is 
concerned,  at  least.  How  far  the  lady  would  be  bound  is  not  very 
clear.  For  obvious  reasons,  probably  not  to  the  same  extent.  In  this 
case,  she  could  no  doubt  sue  you  for  maintenance;  obtain  a  divorce  for 
cause;  recover  alimony  for  desertion,  and  would  unquestionably  be  en 
titled  to  dower  in  case  of  your  death.  At  the  same  time,  she  could 
probably  avoid  the  presumption  as  to  herself,  if  she  should  choose,  by 
pleading  that  she  was  inexperienced,  deceived,  or  overawed,  and  any 
jury  would  believe  her.  Legally,  therefore,  you  are  in  this  predicament : 
she  may  at  any  time  claim  you  as  her  husband,  while  you  cannot  claim 
her  as  your  wife.  If  she  were  inclined  to  be  obstinate  you  might  find 


68  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

yourself  in  for  a  most  unpleasant  criminal  charge,  as  well  as  an  action 
sounding  in  damages.  I  do  not  look  for  either  of  these,  however,  from 
what  you  tell  me  of  her  character.  Now,  what  do  you  propose  to 
do?" 

"  Simply  to  acknowledge  the  fact, — admit  myself  legally  her  hus 
band,  and  seek  to  be  recognized  by  her  as  such,  if  she  will  permit." 

"  Do  you  understand  that  to  do  so  would  be  to  bind  yourself  irrev 
ocably  ?  Marriage  once  fully  admitted  is  indissoluble  except  by  decree 
of  a  court,  which  can  be  secured  only  for  cause." 

"  So  I  suppose." 

"  Had  you  not  better  wait  until  you  find  her  and  learn  her  feelings 
towards  you  ?" 

"  I  have  already  delayed  doing  justice  too  long." 

"  But  how  will  you  do  it?  You  cannot  publish  what  you  have  told 
nie  from  the  house-tops." 

"  I  can  write  on  her  portrait,  '  This  is  my  wife/  sign  my  name  to  it, 
and  send  it  to  all  who  know  her.  That  will  silence  her  detractors  at 
least,"  said  the  young  man,  impetuously. 

aThat  is  an  idea,"  replied  the  lawyer,  thoughtfully.  After  a 
moment  he  added,  "  Come  and  see  me  to-morrow  at  three  o'clock.  In 
the  mean  time  I  will  consult  Mr.  Gauge  and  decide  on  some  course  of 
action, — that  is,  if  we  conclude  to  take  the  case,"  he  added,  cautiously. 

"I  hope  you  will,  Mr.  Swallow,''*  said  the  young  man,  earnestly. 

"  AVell,  we  shall  see,"  replied  the  Junior,  chuckling,  as  he  bowed 
his  visitor  out. 

Mr.  Swallow  sauntered  into  the  Senior's  room  when  his  client  had 
withdrawn,  rubbing  his  hands  together  complacently. 

"  Well,  Gauge,"  he  said,  jocularly,  "  I've  undertaken  the  queerest  job 
just  now  this  firm  has  ever  had  in  hand." 

"  What  is  that  ?"  asked  the  Senior. 

"  Simply  to  overthrow  one  of  the  oldest  maxims  of  the  law." 

"  Which  one  of  the  ancient  landmarks  do  you  propose  to  obliterate 
now,  you  inveterate  iconoclast?"  asked  the  Senior,  smiling  up  at  his 
robust  associate. 

"  Consensus  facit  matrimonium"  was  the  oracular  response. 

"  I  must  confess  I  don't  see  how  we  can  dispense  with  that  maxim 
just  now.  As  long  as  marriage  is  a  part  of  our  law,  that  is  a  bit  of 
Littleton  which  I  think  will  stand,"  responded  the  other. 

"  AVcll,  I  have  engaged — subject  to  your  approval,  of  course — to 


A  RETAINER  IN  CUPID'S  COURT.  69 

maintain  a  marriage  to  which  neither  party  consented,  and  which  was 
never  consummated ;  and  you've  got  to  help  me,  old  fellow." 
"  It  can't  be  done,"  said  Mr.  Gauge,  confidently. 

Then  Mr.  Swallow  narrated  briefly  what  he  had  learned. 

"What  is  the  lady's  name?"  asked  his  partner,  quietly. 

"  Really,"  said  Mr.  Swallow,  in  confusion,  "  I  was  so  interested  in 
the  case,  and  so  absorbed  in  wondering  what  you  would  think  of  it 
that  I  didn't  inquire." 

^  Mr.  Gauge  looked  up  over  his  glasses  at  the  blushing  Junior,  and 
said,  good-naturedly, — 

'l  That's  about  the  last  thing  one  would  expect  from  you." 

Then  they  both  laughed  heartily.  Different  as  they  are  in  char 
acter,  the  most  cordial  relations  have  always  existed  between  the  two 
great  lawyers. 

"I've  got  her  likeness,  anyhow,"  said  Mr.  Swallow,  going  back  to 
his  desk  and  returning  with  the  photograph.  Mr.  Gauge  examined  it 
carefully. 

"  You  say  her  father  started  for  Europe  and  she  left  the  vessel  after 
they  went  on  board  ?  Such  things  do  not  happen  every  day.  When 
did  this  occur?" 

^Really,  I— I  did  not  learn,"  stammered  the  Junior,  blushin* 
again  like  a  school-boy. 

"  Indeed  !"  said  the  Senior  :  "  one  would  hardly  expect  you  to  be  so 
susceptible, — at  your  age,  too." 

Then  they  laughed  again.  They  understood  each  other  thoroughly, 
and  could  afford  to  laugh  at  each  other's  foibles. 

"  I  suppose  you  know  whether  it  was  this  year  or  last  ?" 

"  Oh,  this  year,— only  a  short  time  ago." 

"  Well,  now,  I  wonder  if  we  are  not  both  at  work  on  the  same 
job !  I  wish  I  knew,"  said  the  Senior,  thoughtfully. 

He  looked  at  the  photograph  a  moment,  touched  his  bell  quickly, 
and  said  to  the  boy  who  answered  it, — 

"  Ask  Mr.  Fountain  to  come  here." 

A  moment  after  I  stood  before  him,  inquiring  what  might  be  his 
pleasure. 

"Do  you  know  who  that  is?"  he  asked,  thrusting  the  photograph 
before  me. 

I  suppose  I  must  have  exhibited  some  confusion,  for  he  asked, 
impatiently, — 


70  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

"Well,  who  is  it?" 

"  I  may  be  mistaken,  sir,  but  I  don't  think  I  am." 

"  Pshaw  !  Don't  you  know  that  a  man  may  mistake  a  face,  but 
never  a  photograph  ?  One  may  fail  to  recognize  a  portrait,  but  if  he 
does  recognize  it  lie  is  never  mistaken.  Who  is  it,  now  ?" 

"  I  should  say — it  was  Miss  Florence  Cadmus." 

"  Just  as  I  thought !"  shouted  the  Senior.  "  We'll  take  the  case, 
Mr.  Swallow. — That  will  do,  Mr.  Fountain.  Much  obliged." 

I  went  back  to  my  desk,  wondering  what  had  interested  the  firm  so 
greatly  in  a  young  lady  who  had  come  to  hold  quite  a  prominent  place 
in  my  dreams. 

I  was  excessively  troubled  as  I  smoked  my  cigar  in  my  humble 
lodgings  that  night.  Professor  Cadmus's  commendation  of  my  hand 
writing  and  an  opportunity  to  study  his  methods  had  led  me  to  seek 
to  improve  myself  in  the  art  of  penmanship  by  assiduous  practice, 
with  the  idea  of  making  my  unemployed  evenings  contribute  some 
thing  to  my  exchequer.  That  very  day  I  had  started  to  put  my  plan 
into  execution  by  advertising  to  give  private  lessons.  All  day  I  had 
been  on  nettles  lest  my  associates  should  discover  my  secret.  Now  I 
opened  the  Herald  to  see  how  my  advertisement  looked.  As  I  did  so, 
my  eye  fell  upon  an  announcement  just  above  and  completely  over 
shadowing  mine : 

Temple  of  Chirographic  Art, 

Corner Street  and  Broadway. 

All  styles  of  handwriting  taught  by  a  teacher  having  ten  years  of 
training  under  Professor  Cadmus. 

Address  Miss  Estelle  Florence,  Sec. 

"The  Temple  of  Chirographic  Art"  !  It  was  one  of  the  professor's 
pet  ideas!  Who  could  Miss  Estelle  Florence  be?  All  at  once  it 
flashed  upon  me. 

"  Florence  Estelle  Cadmus  !"  I  said  to  myself.  What  did  it  all 
mean?  I  knew  the  professor  had  gone  abroad,  and  I  had  seen  his 
daughter's  likeness  canvassed  by  the  heads  of  the  firm  that  day.  Did 
it  mean  anything  to  her  prejudice  or  something  to  her  advantage?  At 
any  rate,  she  ought  to  know  the  facts  which  had  come  to  my  knowl 
edge ;  and  1  determined  to  lose  no  time  in  acquainting  her  with  them. 

The  next  morning  on  my  way  to  the  office  I  called  at  the  "  Temple 


A  RETAINER  IN  CUPID'S  COURT.  71 

of  Chirograph ic  Art."  It  was  exactly  the  professor's  ideal  of  such  a 
school, — the  fourth  story  of  a  large  building  which  seemed  to  have 
been  made  on  purpose  for  it, — a  dozen  small  rooms,  with  one  large  one 
in  front.  I  saw  through  the  half-open  door  that  all  were  well  fur 
nished,  not  with  desks,  but  with  small  tables  and  chairs.  The  front 
room  had  also  a  blackboard.  Knocking  at  the  door  of  the  secretary's 
office,  I  was  bidden  to  enter  in  a  voice  I  could  not  mistake,  though  I 
hardly  recognized  the  lady  who  rose  to  welcome  me. 

The  massive  coil  of  hair  I  had  so  greatly  admired  had  disappeared, 
and,  in  its  stead,  short  clustering  curls  adorned  the  comely  head.  Her 
eyes  were  bright  and  her  cheeks  flushed  as  she  gave  me  a  hearty  greeting  : 

"  Why,  ]\Ir.  Fountain,  I  did  not  expect  to  see  you  so  soon  !  When 
did  you  get  my  letter  ?" 

"  Letter  !"     I  had  received  none,  and  so  stated. 

A  few  words  explained  everything  that  needed  explanation.  She 
had  left  her  parents  on  the  eve  of  their  departure  for  Europe,  owing  to 
a  misunderstanding  with  her  father ;  had  gone  to  friends  who  sheltered 
her  during  a  severe  illness  and  loaned  her  money  for  her  present  venture, 
which  she  had  undertaken  under  an  assumed  name  to  save  herself  from 
being  talked  about.  She  had  written  me  on  seeing  my  advertisement 
the  day  before,  both  because  she  feared  I  might  suspect  her  identity  and 
to  ascertain  if  she  could  secure  my  services  as  a  teacher  for  her  evening 
classes. 

Then  I  told  her  what  had  induced  my  visit.  She  listened  quietly, 
asked  a  few  questions,  but  offered  no  explanation.  When  I  had  fin 
ished  she  said, — 

"  Mr.  Fountain,  I  want  a  friend  who  will  serve  me  faithfully,  ask 
no  questions,  and  never  doubt,  whatever  may  occur.  Will  vou  be  that 
friend?" 

There  was  no  hint  of  embarrassment  in  her  voice  or  manner.  I 
knew  such  a  friend  would  never  be  anything  more  to  her  ;  but  I  accepted. 
Somehow  I  felt  that  she  needed  protection,  and  was  glad  to  have  her 
look  to  me  for  it.  Such  enterprises  as  the  Temple  of  Chirogrnphic 
Art  were  not  often  undertaken  by  women  in  those  days,  especially  at 
the  East.  I  was  sure  she  would  succeed;  but  it  was  necessary  that 
she  should  not  seem  to  be  alone.  Her  first  remark  after  thanking 
me  for  acceding  to  her  request  showed  that  she  realized  this. 

"  Now,"  she  said,  "  I  want  an  old  man, — old  enough  to  be  my 
father, — who  can  write  and  look  dignified,  to  be  at  the  head  of  this 


72  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

establishment.  He  need  not  do  anything  except  sit  here  from  nine  to 
twelve ;  but  he  must  be  a  gentleman,  understand  business,  be  able  to 
write,  and  worthy  of  absolute  confidence.  Can  you  find  me  such  a 
man  ?" 

I  thought  I  could  if  she  gave  me  leave  to  speak  freely  of  herself 
and  her  undertaking.  That  afternoon  I  brought  Mr.  Burrill  to  see 
her.  As  a  result  of  some  conversation  with  Mr.  Gauge,  it  was  arranged 
the  next  day  that  Burrill  should  only  come  to  the  office  in  the  after 
noons,  and  that  I  should  be  allowed  to  leave  at  a  rather  earlier  hour 
than  was  then  usual  in  our  office. 

A  day  or  two  afterwards  I  received  a  neat  card,  on  which  was 
pasted  a  photograph ;  below  it  were  printed  these  words : 

'•'  The  lady  whose  portrait  is  given  above  is  my  beloved  wife,  Flor 
ence  C.  Field,  who  was  separated  from  me  by  untoward  accident.  Should 
any  one  to  whom  this  may  come  recognize  the  original  of  this  photo 
graph,,  he  will  confer  a  favor  by  placing  this  in  her  hands  and  sending 
her  address  to  P.O.  Box  31,  New  York  Citv. 

"(Signed)  FRANK  FIELD." 

I  complied  with  the  first  of  these  requests.  Burrill  was  present 
when  I  placed  the  card  in  Miss  Florence's  hands. 

"  It  is  a  lie  ! — a  mean,  cowardly  lie  I"  she  exclaimed,  stamping  her 
foot  angrily.  "  He  wishes  to  persecute  and  annoy  me,  and  Gauge  & 
Swallow  are  doing  his  dirty  work  for  him." 

"Begging  your  pardon,"  said  Burrill,  firmly  but  deferentially, 
"  Gauge  &  Swallow  don't  do  dirty  work  for  anybody." 

Miss  Florence  made  no  reply. 

The  "Temple  of  Chirographic  Art,"  despite  its  absurd  name,  or 
perhaps  because  of  it,  was  a  success  from  the  first.  Whatever  strikes 
the  public  fancy  is  sure  to  go.  I  do  not  think  it  was  so  much  the  pre 
tentious  title  as  the  fact  that  was  soon  apparent  that  common  sense  and 
good  work  were  hidden  under  it.  There  was  nothing  cheap  about  the 
"  Temple"  except  its  name.  I  always  blushed  when  I  saw  that.  But 
there  was  no  lack  of  worshippers.  Private  lessons  at  a  high  rate  or 
public  ones  at  a  lower, — that  was  what  the  institution  offered.  But  it 
promised  nothing  it  was  not  able  to  perform.  Morning  and  evening 
its  classes  were  full.  Every  hour  of  the  day  its  private  rooms  were 
engaged,  sometimes  by  individuals  and  sometimes  by  friendly  parties 


A  RETAINER  IN  CUPID'S  COURT.  73 

who  were  not  ashamed  to  have  one  another  know  their  desire  to  write 
legibly.  Burrill  taught  a  class  in  law-copying  and  engrossing  on  man 
uscript  in  the  morning ;  I  taught  in  the  evening ;  and  Miss  Florence 
taught  all  the  time.  Burrill  made  an  ideal  manager,  and  was  devoted 
to  the  interests  of  the  institution.  As  for  Miss  Florence,  she  had  not 
only  her  father's  skill,  but  also  his  wonderful  faculty  for  imparting 
knowledge.  So  matters  went  on  quietly  enough  ;  she  appeared  content, 
and  it  seemed  as  if  there  was  no  danger  that  her  interest  in  the  work 
would  flag. 

Mr.  Frank  Field  came  to  the  office  every  day, — for  "  news  of  the 
loved  and  lost,"  the  office-boy  said ;  for  his  secret  had  leaked  out,  and 
he  was  always  greeted  with  a  smile  by  the  clerks.  He  seemed  neither 
disconsolate  nor  exultant,  I  could  not  but  admire  his  persistency,  and 
almost  wished  I  might  give  him  a  hint  of  what  he  seemed  so  anxious 
to  know. 

Some  months  passed  in  this  manner,  when  one  day  Mr.  Gauge 
requested  me  to  take  a  letter  to  Mr.  Burrill. 

"  You  know  where  he  is  at  this  time  of  day,  Mr.  Fountain,  and  it 
is  important  that  I  should  have  an  answer  at  once.  Take  a  cab,"  he 
added,  as  I  left  the  room. 

Twenty  minutes  after,  I  handed  the  letter  to  Burrill,  and  before  he 
had  broken  the  seal  Mr.  Gauge  himself  entered  the  office  of  the  "  Temple 
of  Chirographic  Art." 

"  I  would  like,"  he  said,  suavely,  "  to  see  Miss  Estelle  Florence." 

There  was  no  help  for  it.  The  twinkle  in  his  eye  showed  that  he 
had  penetrated  our  secret.  I  went  and  found  her,  told  her  what  had 
happened,  and  would  have  left  her  to  fight  her  battle  with  the  Senior 
alone,  but  she  requested  me  to  remain.  I  expected  a  rating,  and  was 
preparing  my  defence,  when  Mr.  Gauge  said, — 

"  I  do  not  need  to  look  twice  to  know  that  you  are  the  person  we 
have  been  doubly  retained  to  discover." 

"  I  suppose  now  I  must  look  for  further  persecution,"  said  the  brave 
girl,  as  she  faced  him  with  flashing  eyes. 

"  Not  at  all."  said  Mr.  Gauge.  "  Your  father  employed  us  to  hunt 
you  up,  see  that  you  wanted  for  nothing,  and  ask  your  pardon  for  his 
harshness.  He  would  be  glad  to  receive  you  back,  but  realizes  that  he 
has  forfeited  the  right  to  control  your  action." 

There  was  a  quiver  about  the  girPs  mouth,  but  she  said  nothing. 

"  As  for  Mr.  Field "  continued  the  Senior. 


74  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

"  I  will  hear  nothing  about  him,"  said  Miss  Florence,  interrupting. 
"  If  he  had  been  a  man  he  would  have  seen  that  he  had  done  me  harm 
enough  already,  without  advertising  me  all  over  the  country  like  a  stray 
dog." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  the  Senior,  kindly.  "  Nothing  of  the 
kind  has  been  done." 

She  flew  to  her  desk  and  snatched  from  it  the  card  I  had  given  her : 
"  What  do  you  call  that?" 

"  It  is  a  card  which  has  been  sent  to  a  few  of  your  friends,  in  order 
to  relieve  you  from  the  imputation  caused  by  Mr.  Field's  former  care 
lessness  and  ignorance  of  the  law.  You  will  perceive  that  it  is  an 
explicit  admission  of  marriage,  not  an  assertion  of  marital  rights." 

"  I  don't  know  anything  about  it,  and  I  don't  want  to  hear  of  him 
again, — ever !" 

"  I  am  sorry  for  that,"  said  the  Senior,  coolly,  "  for  there  are  one  or 
two  questions  that  have  to  be  settled,  and  you  are  the  only  one  who 
can  decide  them." 

The  girl  had  dried  her  eyes,  and  faced  him  with  angry  determination. 

"  In  the  first  place,"  said  Mr.  Gauge,  "  I  want  to  know  who  is  to 
pay  for  all  the  advertising  Gauge  &  Swallow  have  done  for  the  '  Tem 
ple  of  Chirographic  Art.'  Here  are  thousands  of  costly  cards  giving 
Professor  Cadmus's  opinion  of  your  merits  in  a  fac-siinile  of  his  own 
inimitable  handwriting,  a  lot  of  puifs  costing  a  hundred  dollars  a 
column,  and  I  have  no  idea  how  many  thousand  circulars,  which  we 
have  mailed  to  all  parts  of  the  country.  Now,  here  are  two  men  who 
both  insist  on  paying  the  bills.  What  shall  we  do  ?" 

"  I  shall  pay  them  myself,"  she  said,  extending  her  hand,  and 
biting  her  lip  to  keep  back  the  tears. 

"  Unfortunately,  we  have  already  paid  the  bills,  by  the  express 
order  of  both  our  clients.  The  only  question  is,  which  ought  to  be 
allowed  to  reimburse  us." 

"  You  had  better  charge  it  to  both,  so  as  to  make  no  mistake,"  she 
answered,  with  something  like  a  sneer. 

"  That  is  not  the  kind  of  double-entry  Gauge  &  Swallow  prac 
tise,"  said  the  Senior,  with  a  twinkle.  "  Besides  that,  there  is  another 
trouble.  Mr.  Marshall  Field  informed  his  son,  as  soon  as  he  heard  of 
the  affair,  that  if  you  did  not  acknowledge  him  as  your  husband  within 
six  months  he  would  turn  him  out  of  the  firm  and  cut  him  off  with  a 
shilling,  as  he  will  have  nothing  to  do  with  a  blackguard  such  as  he 


A  RETAINER  IN  CUPID'S  COURT.  75 

must  be  if  you  refuse  to  accept  him.  Here  is  his  letter,  and  you  will 
see  that  the  time  is  nearly  up." 

"  Oh,  do  go  away  !"  she  exclaimed.  "  Are  there  no  gentlemen  left 
in  the  world,  that  I  must  be  hunted  and  badgered  by  lawyers  and  de 
tectives,  simply  because  I  try  to  make  an  honest  living  when  those 
who  should  have  given  me  protection  leave  me  to  bear  the  burden  of 
their  neglect  and  cowardice?  Are  you,  too,  in  this  plot?"  she  asked, 
turning  upon  Burrill  and  myself. 

Before  either  of  us  could  answer,  the  Senior  interposed,  in  a  voice 
as  gentle  as  a  girl's : 

"  My  dear  young  lady,  they  knew  no  more  than  you.  Instead  of 
seeking  to  persecute,  every  one  has  sought  to  protect.  Should  my  own 
daughter  ever  meet  with  trouble  of  any  kind,  I  can  only  hope  that  she 
may  find  as  loyal  friends  as  you  have  met,  and  bear  herself  as  bravely 
as  you  have,  under  difficulty." 

He  bowed  with  profound  reverence  and  withdrew.  She  leaned 
her  head  upon  her  arms  on  the  open  desk  before  her,  and  Burrill  and  I 
stole  out  at  the  Senior's  heels.  Mr.  Frank  Field  was  in  the  hall 
outside.  Mr.  Gauge  pointed  over  his  shoulder  with  his  thumb,  and 
said, — 

"  We  throw  up  our  brief,  sir.  Your  matter  is  in  a  court  where 
Gauge  &  Swallow  are  not  licensed  to  practise." 

Mr.  Field  entered  the  room  and  closed  the  door. 

"  I  do  not  think  we  need  wait  for  the  verdict,"  the  Senior  added, 
with  a  smile,  as  his  client  disappeared. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  Mr.  Gauge,  in  his  blandest  manner,  as  we  drove 
back  to  the  office,  "  I  am  proud  of  your  loyalty  to  a  distressed  woman, 
but  you  ought  not  to  think  you  could  hoodwink  Gauge  &  Swallow." 

"How  did  you  find  it  out,  sir?"  asked  Burrill,  humbly 

"  Mr.  Fountain's  face  gave  away  his  secret.  We  just  put  a  man 
on  his  track,  and  knew  as  much  as  he  did  in  twenty-four  hours.  You 
acted  nobly,  gentlemen,  and  will  lose  nothing  by  having  done  so.  I 
have  arranged  a  sale  of  the  business  to  a  Mercantile  College  firm,  on 
condition  that  you  retain  your  professorships  in  the  new  institution, — 
if  Miss  Florence  will  consent  to  sell,  that  is." 

She  did  consent.  There  was  a  gay  wedding  soon  after.  All  of 
Gauge  &  Swallow's  clerks  were  invited.  I  did  not  go,  my  mother's 
health  requiring  me  to  be  absent  from  the  city  at  that  time :  that,  at 
least,  was  the  excuse  I  rendered. 


76  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

I  have  held  a  professorship  of  commercial  law  ever  since.  It  has 
not  been  worth  much  in  a  professional  way, — such  things  don't  count 
for  much  at  the  bar, — but  the  salary  has  been  a  consideration.  It  has 
given  me  some  practice,  too,  which  has  gone  in  with  Gauge  &  Swal 
low's,  but  always  under  my  name,  and  the  fees  and  costs  have  been 
carried  to  my  credit  without  charge  for  service  or  assistance. 


IV. 

THE  LETTER  AND   THE  SPIRIT. 

"  T)UKRILL,"  said  Mr.  Gauge,  coming  into  the  office  one  day  at 

JL)  lunch-time  when  we  three,  Minton,  Burrill,  and  myself,  were 

sitting  round  the  little  enclosure  in  which  stood  the  old  man's  desk, 

"  can  you  lay  your  hands  on  the  papers  in  Ainsworth  vs.  Ainsworth  ?" 

Mr.  Gauge's  voice  always  had  a  touch  of  tenderness  in  it  when  he 
spoke  to  the  old  clerk. 

"Ainsworth  again?  Ainsworth?  Of  course  I  can.  The  first 
word  I  ever  wrote  in  this  office — it  was  at  this  very  desk,  too — was 
the  caption  of  that  case.  And,  begging  your  pardon,  sir,  for  saying 
it,  though  it  has  paid  well  enough,  first  and  last,  I  wish  it  had  never 
come  into  the  office  at  all.  Is  there  any  particular  paper  you  want, 

Sll  • 

"  Bring  them  all,  Burrill,"  answered  the  Senior,  with  a  smile. 
"  Perhaps  I  shall  be  able  to  get  rid  of  the  whole  lot  at  once." 

"  I  hope  you  will,  sir ;  I  hope  you  will,"  muttered  the  old  man,  as 
he  took  his  cane  and  stumped  across  the  office  to  the  cases  where  the 
files  are  kept. 

"Getting  irritable  as  he  grows  older,  isn't  he?"  said  the  lawyer  as 
he  watched  the  old  man's  movements.  "  He  always  did  have  a  spite 
against  the  case,  though." 

It  was  very  funny,  the  way  these  two  men  who  had  spent  half  a 
lifetime  in  each  other's  company  spoke  of  each  other's  age.  I  have 
observed  that  more  people  do  curious  things  than  we  are  accustomed  to 
believe.  It  is  the  mark  of  irrepressible  and  indestructible  individuality. 
It  is  the  man  who  sees  only  the  surface  who  thinks  our  modern  life  is 
one  dead  level  of  uniformity.  He  who  gets  near  enough  to  men  to  see 
something  besides  the  externals  of  life,  who  is  not  misled  by  the  fashion 
of  garments  and  habit  of  speech, — such  observers  know  that  civilization 
has  not  lessened  the  contrast  between  individuals  nor  obliterated 
7*  77 


78  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

the  deeps  and  shallows  of  human  life.  Neither  of  these  men  was  old, 
yet  each  habitually  spoke  of  the  other  as  if  he  thought  him  verging 
upon  the  limit  of  effective  power.  Each  called  the  other  old,  though 
there  was  barely  two  years'  difference  in  their  ages;  and  when  I  entered 
the  office  the  younger  had  barely  turned  the  fiftieth  mile-post.  Yet,  in 
a  sense,  they  were  old.  There  was,  somehow,  an  indefinable  flavor  of 
the  past  about  them  both  which  no  one  who  is  absolutely  part  and  par 
cel  of  to-day  could  fail  to  note ;  yet  this  impression  of  age  was  one  of 
ripeness  rather  than  of  decay, — the  feeling  which  the  sapling  must  have 
for  the  oak  that  overtops  it. 

For  that  matter,  I  think  Mr.  Gauge  had  always  been  old.  He  was 
one  of  those  slender  men  of  calm,  immobile  features  whose  hair  had 
taken  on  its  hue  of  even  iron-gray  before  he  was  forty,  but  had  never 
lost  its  bristly  vigor  or  abundance.  His  smooth-shaven  face  was  of 
that  dull,  even  color  which  characterizes  the  American,  especially  one 
of  sedentary  habit,  in  middle  life.  The  flesh  was  hard  and  firm,  how 
ever,  and  the  gray  eyes  looked  out  from  under  steely  overhanging 
brows  with  a  glance  as  keen  as  when  he  began  his  career  in  the 
metropolis.  He  was,  it  is  true,  an  old  lawyer, — one  of  the  landmarks 
of  the  bar,  because  the  bar  of  the  great  city  changes  in  its  personnel 
•with  wonderful  rapidity.  He  had  begun  the  practice  early  in  life,  being 
admitted  the  day  after  he  attained  his  majority,  as  he  was  fond  of  tell 
ing  us  youngsters ;  and  thirty  years  in  active  practice  makes  a  man  a 
veteran  at  the  bar.  He  was  one  of  those  peculiar  types  of  the  American 
practitioner  who,  being  old  at  fifty,  are  likely  to  be  found  spare,  alert, 
and  hardly  depreciated  in  power  or  appearance  after  fourscore. 

Mr.  Burrill  was  of  quite  another  type.  The  fair,  smooth  skin,  soft 
white  hands,  a  tendency  to  corpulence,  and  unmistakable  evidence  of 
gouty  proclivity,  all  marked  him  as  the  transplanted  Englishman  ; — one 
might  almost  say  Londoner,  for  the  London  type  has  become  nearly  as 
distinctive  as  that  of  Yorkshire,  though  few  observers  on  this  side  the 
sea  seem  to  have  noted  the  fact.  The  appearance  of  age  was  greatly 
increased  in  Mr.  BiirrilPs  case  by  the  peculiar  softness  of  the  white  hair 
which  fell  away  on  either  side  of  his  smooth,  broad  forehead  and  rolled 
in  a  great  wave  above  the  collar  of  his  broadcloth  coat  of  the  old-fash 
ioned  cutaway  style  that  became  him  so  well.  In  addition  to  that,  he 
was  one  of  the  few  men  of  my  time  who  still  wore  the  ruffled  shirt- 
fronts  and  fluted  wrist-bands  which  the  modern  love  for  glare  and 
slipperiness — as  well,  perhaps,  as  the  exigencies  of  machine-laundry- 


THE  LETTER  AND   THE  SPIRIT  79 

ing — has  driven  out  of  vogue,  though  nothing  was  ever  devised  which 
was  half  so  becoming  to  the  well-dressed  man  or  that  served  to  rob  age 
of  its  terrors  so  effectually. 

So  these  two  men  whose  mellow  prime  promised  so  green  an  age 
spoke  always  of  each  other's  age  in  a  tone  of  grave  banter  which  some 
times  served  to  deceive  the  new-comers  in  the  office,  until  all  had  come 
to  treat  them  with  an  unconscious  deference  which  under  other  circum 
stances  it  would  have  required  another  score  of  years  to  enable  them  to 
claim.  With  the  men  themselves,  I  think,  jest  had  half  ripened  into 
reality,  and  each  thought  of  the  other Aas  older  than  he  was.  This,  at 
least,  was  the  impression  first  produced  on  me,  and  which  it  required  an 
explicit  knowledge  of  the  facts  to  remove.  Indeed,  I  think  it  question 
able  if  I  have  even  yet  entirely  gotten  rid  of  it. 

"  Here  they  are,"  said  Mr.  Burrill,  returning  from  his  search  with  a 
great  bundle  of  papers  yellow  with  age,  which  he  laid  upon  their  edges 
on  his  desk  and  proceeded  carefully  to  dust  them  off  before  untying  the 
package.  "  What  will  you  have,  sir  ?  I  hope  there  is  nothing  more 
to  be  done  in  the  matter?" 

"  Well,  yes,  there  is ;  and,  as  I've  got  to  run  over  the  papers,  I 
may  as  well  tell  the  whole  story  to  Minton  as  I  go  along.  We've  had 
a  hard  morning,  and  can  afford  a  little  longer  '  nooning '  than  usual. 
I'll  have  my  luncheon  brought  here,  and  we  will  look  over  the  papers 
as  we  eat." 

"  I'd  a  deal  rather  pitch  them  into  the  fire,  sir,"  said  Burrill,  dog 
gedly.  "  It's  the  only  thing  in  the  office  that  never  seemed  exactly 
square." 

"  Pshaw,  Burrill !"  said  Mr.  Gauge ;  "  it's  not  often  I  tell  a  story, 
so  let  me  have  those  two  first  letters  and  start  at  the  beginning,  like  a 
bill  in  Equity.  These  are  the  ones,"  he  added,  as  Burrill  laid  before 
him  two  old  and  yellow  papers  carefully  folded  and  endorsed.  The 
one,  I  could  see,  was  in  a  lady's  fine  Italian  hand ;  the  other  in  the 
clear,  firm  writing  of  one  whom  I  judged  to  be  a  lawyer,  despite  its 
legibility. 

"Read  them,  won't  you,  Mr.  Fountain?  you  seem  to  be  the 
only  one  who  has  his  mouth  at  liberty  just  now.  The  lady's  first, 
please." 

I  had  finished  my  lunch  sooner  than  the  others,  and  his  had  just 
been  brought  in. 

So  I  read : 


80  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

"MR.  THEOPHILTJS  GAUGE: 

"  DEAR  SIR, — A  daughter  of  John  God  man  desires  your  assistance. 

"  Respectfully, 

"  LUELLA   AlXSWORTH." 

The  other,  to  the  same  address,  read  as  follows : 

"DEAR  SIR, — Enclosed  you  will  find  a  line  from  a  client  who  is 
desirous  that  you  should  appear  with  me  in  a  matter  in  which  she  is 
concerned.  She  is  well  able  to  pay  a  reasonable  honorarium,  and  I  am 
instructed,  should  you  be  willing  to  accept  a  retainer,  to  request  you  to 
draw  on  me  at  sight  through  Libbey  &  Co.,  of  Richmond,  who  will 
take  pleasure  in  honoring  your  order.  I  would  advise  that  you  leave 
the  further  consideration  of  the  amount  you  will  charge  for  your  ser 
vices  until  we  have  had  opportunity  to  consult.  Allow  me  to  say 
that  I  most  heartily  second  my  client's  importunity,  and  hope  to  have 
the  honor  of  appearing  in  a  case  of  some  interest  with  one  so  well  and 
favorably  known  to  our  bar. 

"  Very  respectfully, 

"  Your  obedient  servant, 

"EDWIN  R.  BUFORD. 

"  P.  S. — I  ought  perhaps  to  have  informed  you  as  to  the  character 
of  the  litigation  in  which  your  assistance  is  desired.  The  case  is  an 
issue  of  devisavit  vel  non,  involving  the  title  to  a  considerable  estate. 
The  question  turns  on  the  validity  of  a  holograph  will  discovered 
nearly  a  year  after  the  alleged  testator's  death,  in  a  desk  which  had 
been  in  possession  of  his  wife,  in  whose  favor  it  is  drawn,  since  his 
disappearance, — for  the  fact  of  death,  though  not  contested,  is  not  sus 
ceptible  of  explicit  proof.  The  case,  under  our  statute,  is  not  without 
difficulty,  though  I  by  no  means  share  the  anxiety  felt  by  the  pro 
ponent.  As  a  considerable  part  of  the  estate  would  come  to  her  in  any 
event,  there  is  no  reason  why  she  should  not  enjoy  that  security  which 
she  has  scriptural  authority  for  expecting  from  '  a  multitude  of  coun 
sellors/ 

"  The  issue  will  come  on  for  trial  during  the  Fall  Term  of  our  Su 
perior  Court,  which  sits  on  the  sixth  Monday  after  the  first  Monday  in 
September.  Should  it  suit  your  pleasure  to  accept,  I  should  advise 


THE  LETTER  AND  THE  SPIRIT.  81 

that  you  reach  here  not  later  than  the  second  day  of  the  term,  and 
earlier  if  consistent  with  other  engagements. 

"  E.  R.  B." 

"  These  letters,"  said  Mr.  Gauge,  reflectively,  "  which  came  in  one 
envelope,  constituted  my  entire  mail  one  day  in  July,  1854.  I  was  a 
young  attorney  then,  with  a  comfortable  den  in  '  The  Swamp/  and  a 
fair  enough  outlook  for  the  future,  but  I  still  got  my  mail  at  the  '  Gen 
eral  Delivery '  and  went  for  it  myself.  I  had  a  snug  little  list  of  clients 
who  paid  me  a  moderate  sum  each  year  to  advise  them  about  their  busi 
ness  and  appear  for  them  whenever  they  had  need  of  an  attorney  in  court. 
I  had  held  a  brief  in  several  important  cases,  and  had  led  in  one  notable 
trial  with  a  famous  name  associated  with  me.  Yet  I  did  not  get  as  many 
letters  then  as  my  youngest  daughter  does  now.  So  I  had  plenty  of  time 
to  read  these,  and  I  read  them  over  a  good  many  times  that  day,  though 
I  started  home  fully  an  hour  earlier  than  usual  on  account  of  them. 

"To  be  employed  in  a  case  standing  for  trial  in  another  State,  and 
especially  in  a  Southern  State,  was  a  very  gratifying  event  to  one  in  my 
position.  I  had  never  been  out  of  the  State  on  professional  business, 
and  I  regarded  it  as  a  great  honor  to  hold  such  a  retainer.  Even  hun 
dred-dollar  fees  had  not  been  abundant  in  my  practice.  I  had  received 
one  of  a  thousand,  but  its  fellow  had  not  yet  made  its_  appearance. 
But  this  retainer  meant  more  than  money  to  me  then.  I  should  have 
signified  my  acceptance  by  return  mail  but  for  two  reasons  :  I  thought 
it  would  not  be  prudent  to  appear  too  eager,  and  I  wanted  also  to  take 
advice  on  the  matter. 

"  I  used  to  talk  all  important  cases  over  with  Emily — that  is  my 
wife's  name — in  those  days.  She  was  the  only  partner  I  had,  you  see, 
and^  I  must  admit  that  I  made  very  few  mistakes  in  following  her 
advice.  I  carried  the  letters  home  and  read  them  to  her  that  night. 
There  were  tears  of  pleasure  in  the  good  woman's  eyes  when  she  fully 
realized  their  import.  You  will  understand  this  better  when  I  tell 
you  the  reason  a  young  lawyer  hardly  able  to  earn  a  living  was  spoken 
of  in  such  complimentary  terms  by  a  practitioner  who,  for  aught  I 
knew,^  might  be  double  my  age,  in  another  and  remote  State. 

"  Three  years  before,  John  Godman  had  come  to  my  office  one  morn 
ing,  placed  a  fifty-dollar  bill  on  my  table,  and  asked  me  to  take  steps  to 
sue  out  a  writ  of  habeas  corpus  for  a  negro — a  fugitive  from  slavery — 
who  was  confined  in  the  Tombs  to  await  the  conclusion  of  formalities 

D* 


82  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

for  his  return  to  the  possession  of  his  master.  The  vessel  on  which  lie 
was  to  be  shipped  would  sail  in  a  few  hours,  and  no  time  could  be  lost. 
I  knew  John  Godman  to  be  a  leading  spirit  among  the  Abolitionists. 
My  father  had  kept  a  station  on  the  Underground  Railroad,  and  in  my 
youth  I  had  more  than  once  been  employed  as  a  medium  of  commu 
nication  between  Godman  in  New  York  and  the  country  parsonage  to 
which  the  human  wares  that  came  to  his  hands  were  consigned.  To 
this  fact,  I  doubt  not,  I  owed  my  selection  for  this  important  task, 
though  in  those  days  it  was  no  easy  matter  to  get  lawyers  of  established 
repute  to  take  the  case  of  a  fugitive  slave.  Of  course  the  one  most 
nearly  concerned  was  never  able  to  pay  a  reasonable  fee  for  such  ser 
vices,  and  the  attorney  undertaking  it  was  very  likely  to  be  boycotted 
by  his  other  clients.  At  that  time,  and,  indeed,  up  to  the  very  out 
break  of  the  civil  war,  the  business-men  of  New  York  were  by  a  large 
majority  pro-slavery  in  their  sentiments.  A  great  portion  of  our  trade 
was  with  the  South,  and  to  be  an  Abolitionist  was  to  be  looked  upon 
as  an  enemy  of  the  city's  prosperity.  All  this  time,  however,  the  senti 
ment  of  hostility  to  slavery  was  crystallizing  in  the  popular  mind,  and 
the  Abolitionists  were  growing  bolder  in  the  assertion  of  their  peculiar 
views. 

"  I  did  not  dream  of  hesitating,  though  I  thought  it  probable  I 
might  lose  some  of  my  best  clients.  Hardly  stopping  to  pocket  the 
fee,  I  began  the  preparation  of  the  papers  from  memoranda  furnished 
by  Mr.  Godman,  and  before  the  slave  could  be  smuggled  outboard  the 
steamer  the  writ  of  habeas  corpus  was  served  on  those  having  him  in 
custody,  in  spite  of  the  efforts  of  the  police  to  prevent  it.  In  fact,  I 
not  only  procured  the  writ,  but  served  it  myself,  and  when  night  came 
had  some  visible  bruises  to  show  for  my  temerity.  The  hearing  was 
set  for  the  next  morning.  The  attempt  at  reclamation  had  become 
known  throughout  the  city,  and  a  mob  gathered  about  the  City  Hall, 
threatening  all  manner  of  evil  against  the  instigators  of  the  movement 
to  deprive  the  master  of  his  property,  which  was  then  considered  just 
about  as  disreputable  as  horse-stealing  is  now  held  to  be  in  Montana. 
Fortunately,  the  Abolitionists  of  that  day,  if  not  lavish  of  funds,  were 
of  indomitable  spirit,  and  did  not  hesitate  to  expose  themselves  to  vio 
lence  in  the  cause  of  personal  liberty. 

"  I  have  seldom  been  in  such  a  notable  company  as  marched  with 
me  through  the  howling  mob  that  morning.  I  had  a  black  eye,  it  is 
true,  but  among  my  body-guard  were  many  whose  names  are  now 


THE  LETTER  AND   THE  SPIRIT.  83 

written  among  the  stars, — ministers,  merchants,  the  most  renowned  of 
journalists,  and,  best  of  all,  one  of  the  most  notable  of  my  own  pro 
fession,  who  said,  as  he  linked  his  arm  with  mine, — 

" '  I  have  entered  an  appearance  with  you  in  this  matter,  and  have 
come  to  sit  beside  you,  not  to  take  any  of  the  credit  of  the  case,  but  to 
help  you  if  you  need  it,  and  to  see  that  you  are  not  overmatched  by 
numbers/ 

"  He  was  as  good  as  his  word,  too. 

"As  we  went  up  the  steps  we  met  the  man  whom  I  regarded  as  my 
best  client.  He  had  not  only  given  me  his  own  business,  but  had  in 
duced  others  to  give  me  theirs.  He  was  in  a  terrible  passion.  Shaking 
his  fist  in  my  face,  he  exclaimed. — 

" i  If  you  go  on  with  this  business,  sir,  you  must  give  up  mine/ 

"  It  is  a  bad  time  to  attempt  to  coerce  a  lawyer  when  he  is  sore 
from  being  hauled  over  the  cobblestones  in  serving  a  writ  and  the  case 
is  about  to  be  called  which  he  believes  will  give  him  some  revenge  for 
what  he  has  suffered.  There  is  as  much  human  nature  '  to  the  acre ' 
in  the  profession  as  I  have  ever  seen  anywhere ;  and  a  man  is  like  a 
bull  in  that  he  doesn't  scare  worth  a  cent  when  his  blood  is  up. 

"  I  was  never  much  of  a  bully,  and  not  accustomed  to  lose  my 
temper,  at  least  away  from  home.  I  was  able-bodied,  however,  and 
the  day  before  had  shown  that  I  could  use  the  arm  of  flesh  in  an 
emergency.  My  client's  tones  and  fists  were  too  much  for  my  equa 
nimity. 

"  '  Go  to with  your  business/ 1  cried,  '  but  get  out  of  my  way, 

or  I  will  knock  you  down  I' 

"  I  should  have  done  it,  too.  It  was  a  foolish  speech,  but,  despite 
its  profanity,  the  distinguished  company  with  me  endorsed  it  heartily. 
It  was  only  another  instance  of  substance  being  more  important  than 
form.  The  matter  got  wind  through  their  approval,  especially  that 
of  the  journalist,  who  gave  it  a  prominent  place  in  his  account  of  the 
proceedings. 

"As  you  are  aware,  the  application  was  successful,  the  court  holding 
that  the  master  had  forfeited  his  right  to  compel  the  slave's  return  to 
service  by  having  voluntarily  brought  him  into  a  free  State.  I  received 
a  great  deal  more  credit  than  I  deserved  for  the  part  I  had  taken,  and 
when  I  reached  my  office  that  night  found  a  check  for  a  thousand  dol 
lars  awaiting  my  arrival  as  a  general  retainer  from  the  heaviest  house 
in  the  country  in  the  particular  line  of  business  in  which  my  irate 


84  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

client  was  engaged.  I  lost  some  clients,  but  gained  more,  and  I  have 
always  looked  upon  this  case  as  the  real  foundation  of  my  success. 

"  I  naturally  looked  for  wholesale  abuse  on  the  part  of  Southern 
journals  for  the  course  I  had  taken,  and  in  this  I  was  not  disappointed. 
Very  much  to  my  surprise,  however,  I  received  numerous  letters  from 
members  of  the  Southern  bar,  commending  my  fidelity  to  my  client's 
interest,  and  promising  to  remember  it  whenever  they  had  business  re 
quiring  attention  in  the  city.  Among  these  was  one  from  Mr.  Buford, 
who  was  a  practitioner  of  some  eminence  in  his  State.  Though  he  was 
a  slave-holder  himself,  he  said,  he  recognized  the  fact  that  the  law  was 
the  measure  of  all  right,  and  if  a  man  chose  to  take  his  negro  to  a 
State  where  slavery  was  forbidden,  he  ought  not  to  complain  if  he  suf 
fered  loss.  As  to  my  course,  he  said,  it  was  an  attorney's  business  to 
see  that  his  client  had  the  benefit  of  the  law,  whether  he  was  a  white 
man  or  a  '  nigger/  and  if  any  one  obstructed  him  in  that  duty  he  ought 
to  fight.  I  need  not  say  that  this  letter  gave  me  great  pleasure ;  and 
now  my  generous  correspondent  and  the  daughter  of  my  old  friend 
united  in  inviting  me  to  appear  in  a  case  in  which  the  one  was  engaged 
as  counsel  and  the  other  concerned  as  client. 

"  This  was  the  first  time  I  had  been  called  to  go  outside  the  State 
on  professional  business,  and  I  was  very  nervous  about  appearing  before 
a  strange  court.  During  the  three  months  that  intervened  I  made  a 
most  exhaustive  study  of  every  question  that  can  arise  on  the  issue  of 
devisavit  vel  non,  but  more  especially  of  the  more  limited  field  of  holo 
graph  and  other  exceptional  testamentary  forms.  It  is  not  too  much  to 
say  that  when  I  finally  started  for  the  county  of  North  Carolina  in 
which  the  issue  was  to  be  tried,  I  knew  all  there  was  to  be  learned 
from  books  on  the  subject  of  nuncupative  wills. 

"  I  arrived  a  few  days  before  the  opening  of  the  term,  and  found 
my  associate  to  be  a  man  at  least  a  dozen  years  older  than  myself,  of 
slender  form,  with  a  calm  blue  eye,  quiet  almost  reserved  manner,  and 
with  nothing  about  him  to  indicate  the  heartiness  which  he  had  dis 
played  in  his  letters  to  me.  There  was  no  lack  of  cordiality  in  his 
welcome,  but  I  felt  at  once  that  his  appreciation  had  been  won  by  the 
faithfulness  with  which  I  had  served  my  client,  rather  than  from  any 
sympathy  with  the  results  of  my  action.  This  discovery  was  something 
of  a  shock,  since  I  was  at  that  time  one  of  those  absurd  sentimentalists 
who  expect  men  reared  under  the  most  divergent  influences  to  show 
the  same  moral  inclinations.  He  was  a  brave  man,  and  a  lawyer  who 


THE  LETTER  AND   THE  SPIRIT.  85 

had  more  than  once  risked  his  life  for  a  client,  and  had  a  natural  ad 
miration  for  one  who  did  likewise.  As  for  the  negro,  he  had  no  sym 
pathy  with  the  opinions  or  prejudices  of  Northern  sentimentalists  in 
regard  to  his  rights  or  his  wrongs.  Such  rights  as  the  law  gave, 
whether  to  slave  or  freeman,  he  would  willingly  aid  to  enforce ;  but 
beyond  that  he  did  not  go. 

l(  This  is  the  account  he  gave  me,  in  clear  cool  tones  and  in  the 
most  lucid  and  succinct  manner,  of  the  case  we-  had  to  try.  I  knew 
very  little  of  his  standing  at  the  bar,  but  he  had  not  uttered  a  dozen 
sentences  before  I  was  fully  satisfied  of  three  things  :  first,  that  he 
could  not  be  for  any  considerable  period  a  member  of  any  bar  without 
being  one  of  the  leaders  of  it ;  second,  that  he  was  profoundly  inter 
ested  in  this  case,  and  especially  in  our  client;  and,  third,  that  he  re 
garded  with  a  feeling  very  close  to  resentment  her  persistent  demand 
that  I  should  hold  a  retainer  in  the  case.  I  knew  also  that  I  should 
have  great  difficulty  in  overcoming  this  feeling.  He  was  not  a  man 
accessible  to  flattery,  nor  one  who  would  in  any  manner  aid  me  in 
securing  his  good  will.  He  would  be  polite,  gracious,  and  communica 
tive  as  to  the  facts ;  he  would  inform  me  fully  of  what  had  been  done, 
and  of  the  line  of  action  proposed  by  our  opponents ;  but  of  his  own 
views  and  speculations  he  would  say  nothing.  The  way  to  his  esteem 
lay  wholly  through  his  head. 

"  Luella  Godman,  eight  years  before,  had  made  her  appearance  in 
Earl  shire  County  as  the  wife  of  Major  Matthew  Ainsworth,  a  gentle 
man  of  liberal  education,  of  fair  estate,  and  of  a  numerous  and  some 
what  aristocratic  family.  Whence  she  came,  what  were  her  antecedents, 
or  who  were  her  relatives,  no  one  knew.  Mr.  Ainsworth  had  met  her 
in  a  South  Carolina  family  where  she  was  employed  as  governess. 
Fascinated  by  her  beauty  and  attainments,  he  asked  no  questions,  but 
was  told  that  she  was  an  orphan  without  living  relatives  and  had  no 
friends  she  cared  to  remember.  She  was  known  at  that  time  as  Miss 
Luella  Robards. 

"  The  major's  family  were  not  long  in  seeking  to  penetrate  the 
mystery  of  her  past ;  but  if  there  was  any  she  guarded  it  well.  Mr. 
Buford  was  not  even  aware  of  the  contents  of  the  note  he  had  for 
warded  to  me,  and  I  did  not  feel  called  upon  to  enlighten  him  as  to 
her  relation  to  Godman,  who,  by  the  way,  had  died  soon  after  bringing 
me  the  case  on  which  my  notoriety,  if  not  my  reputation  as  a  lawyer, 
was  based.  My  associate  evidently  expected  me  to  shed  some  light 
8 


86  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

upon  the  early  life  of  our  client ;  but  I  contented  myself  with  remark 
ing  that  I  did  not  remember  to  have  ever  met  her. 

"  Major  Ainsworth  would  have  been  entirely  happy  in  his  domestic 
relations  but  for  the  stubborn  refusal  of  his  wife  to  accompany  him  to 
any  place  of  public  resort.  In  the  county  she  was  a  belle  of  ac 
knowledged  pre-eminence,  but  out  of  it  she  never  stirred.  She  did 
not  claim  any  fondness  for  domestic  vocations,  but  soon  assumed 
with  her  husband's  full  assent  the  management  of  his  estate,  very 
greatly  to  the  advantage  of  his  exchequer.  The  acreage  in  cultiva 
tion  was  rapidly  extended,  improved  methods  were  adopted,  and  new 
economies  inaugurated.  Year  by  year  more  land  was  purchased  and 
title  taken  in  her  name,  the  major  boastfully  asserting  that  it  represented 
her  earnings.  One  thing  was  noticeable  :  no  slave  was  permitted  to  till 
the  lands  thus  acquired,  which  were  cultivated  under  her  supervision 
either  by  '  croppers '  or  '  hirelings/ — white  people  who  worked  on  shares 
or  for  Avages.  Yet  all  prospered,  so  that  after  six  years  the  major 
came  to  be  looked  upon  as  one  of  the  wealthiest  men  in  the  region. 
Withal,  his  wife  was  a  woman  of  spirit,  of  varied  acquirements,  a 
dashing  horsewoman,  and  a  practised  shot.  Her  devotion  to  her  hus 
band  was  notable  and  unwavering.  To  say  that  she  was  blind  to  his 
faults — or  fault,  rather,  since  he  had  but  one — would  not  express  the 
half  of  it.  She  demanded  that  every  one  else  should  be  blind  too. 
A  man  who  happened  to  make  an  allusion  to  his  inebriety  in  her  pres 
ence  was  compelled  to  apologize  at  the  muzzle  of  her  pistol.  The 
result  was  the  entire  reformation  of  her  husband,  whose  infatuation  for 
her  was  redoubled  by  this  fact.  There  was  but  one  fly  in  the  precious 
ointment  of  his  domestic  life :  he  was  convinced  that  his  wife  had  a 
secret  which  gave  her  great  unhappiness,  and  he  determined  to  discover 
its  nature  and  remove  her  sorrow.  Unfortunately,  he  kept  this  purpose 
from  her.  He  thought  her  sorrow  was  in  some  manner  connected  with 
her  past  life,  but  had  not  the  least  suspicion  that  it  could  be  anything 
discreditable  to  her. 

"  He  communicated  his  purpose  to  Mr.  Buford,  who  tried  to  dis 
suade  him  from  it,  but  in  vain.  He  had  somehow  gotten  a  clue  to  her 
past,  which  he  determined  to  follow,  and,  having  made  a  will  devising 
everything  to  his  wife,  he  went  North  and  after  a  few  months  wholly 
disappeared.  He  was  supposed  to  have  been  on  a  steamer  that  was  lost 
on  Lake  Michigan  about  that  time,  but  of  this  there  was  no  positive 
proof.  He  was  known  to  have  been  in  Chicago  the  week  before,  and 


THE  LETTER  AND  THE  SPIRIT.  87 

had  an  engagement  in  New  York  the  week  after,  which  was  never 
filled.  More  than  three  years  had  elapsed  since  his  disappearance. 
His  wife  had  remained  in  possession  of  his  estate,  because  it  was  gen 
erally  understood  that  a  will  had  been  made  in  her  favor.  After  a 
while  it  was  noised  about  that  there  was  no  will ;  and  it  was  only  when 
steps  were  taken  by  the  heirs  to  have  an  administrator  appointed  that 
the  will  then  in  controversy  was  offered  for  probate. 

"  The  rumor  that  she  intended  to  remove  the  slaves  which  had 
belonged  to  the  deceased  to  a  free  State  and  give  them  their  liberty  no 
doubt  hastened  the  action  of  the  heirs, — such  a  rumor  being,  as  Mr. 
Buford  remarked,  regarded  as  little  less  terrible  than  a  declaration  of 
war  to  a  community  of  slave-owners.  How  the  rumor  arose  he  was 
unable  to  conceive.  That  she  had  such  a  purpose  he  did  not  doubt. 
A  peculiarity  of  her  nature  seemed  to  be  an  instinctive  and  ineradicable 
aversion  to  this  institution,  which  was  manifested  more  by  what  she  did 
not  say  than  by  any  words  she  Avas  ever  known  to  utter.  While  she 
no  doubt  entertained  this  feeling,  he  thought  her  the  last  person  in  the 
world  to  have  given  any  hint  of  her  design.  But  for  some  investments 
she  had  made,  he  would  never  have  suspected  it  himself.  In  short, 
I  gathered  from  him  that  our  client  was  not  one  who  asked  advice 
as  to  what  she  should  do,  but  simply  required  a  lawyer's  aid  to 
carry  her  designs  into  effect  or  protect  her  against  encroachments  from 
others. 

"  I  was  quite  prepared,  therefore,  as  our  conversation  progressed,  to 
learn  that  the  story  of  the  will  was  a  curious  one. 

"'As  I  have  told  you/  said  Mr.  Buford,  'I  had  drawn  Major 
Ainsworth's  will,  according  to  his  instructions,  some  little  time  before 
his  departure,  and  it  was  witnessed  by  two  of  my  neighbors.  When 
it  came  to  be  generally  believed  that  he  was  dead,  his  wife  sent  for  me 
to  come  to  her  house  and  requested  me  to  act  as  her  legal  adviser.  She 
did  not  share  the  general  belief  in  her  husband's  death,  but  gave  no 
reason  for  disbelieving  it,  and  remarked  that  she  had  thought  it  best 
not  to  say  so  to  any  one  else,  only  manifesting  her  incredulity  by  de 
clining  to  wyear  mourning  or  join  in  the  request  for  funeral  services  in 
his  memory. 

" '  These  things  would  probably  have  attracted  little  attention  in  a 
Northern  community,'  continued  Mr.  Buford,  with  just  the  hint  of  a 
sneer  in  his  calm  even  tones  and  clear  blue  eyes, '  but  with  our  country- 
people  a  funeral  is  the  most  important  event  of  life,  and  mourning  a 


88  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

formality  the  omission  of  which  is  an  evidence  of  immeasurable 
depravity. 

" '  I  found  the  premises  in  the  most  perfect  order.  The  master's 
absence  had  made  no  difference  with  its  condition,  as  indeed  there  was 
no  reason  why  it  should.  Within  the  house  everything  showed  the 
most  scrupulous  regard  for  his  memory.  His  saddles,  spurs,  whips, 
and  guns  were  scattered  about  the  room  adjoining  her  bedchamber, 
which  had  been  the  one  he  occupied,  just  as  he  had  left  them.  This 
room  she  permitted  no  one  else  to  enter,  dusting  and  arranging  it  with 
her  own  hands.  The  only  alteration  she  had  made  was  to  hang  her 
husband's  portrait  above  his  desk.  This  latter  she  informed  me  that 
she  had  opened  but  once  or  twice  since  his  departure,  when  it  became 
necessary  to  procure  some  papers  from  it.  The  key  had  always  been 
kept  in  her  room,  hanging  at  the  side  of  her  own  little  desk,  of  which 
she  had  always  had  exclusive  control.  The  door  from  the  Major's  room 
into  the  "  living-  "  or  sitting-room  had  been  closed  ever  since  his  de 
parture,  so  that  the  only  means  of  access  to  it  lay  through  the  wife's 
room.  This  had  always  been  customary  during  his  absence.  In  a 
double  drawer  of  this  desk  I  found  the  will.  It  was  the  one  I  had 
drawn  and  witnessed  by  my  neighbors.  I  glanced  it  over,  noting  these 
facts,  but  did  not  read  it  carefully.  The  other  compartment  of  the 
drawer  was  filled,  as  a  cursory  examination  revealed,  with  bundles  of 
receipts,  bills  of  lading,  returns  from  his  factors,  and  other  matters  of 
like  character. 

" '  I  advised  an  immediate  probate  of  the  will,  but  she  seemed  dis 
inclined  to  accept  the  suggestion.  From  that  time  her  business  has 
passed  through  my  hands  and  I  have  been  her  constant  adviser.  I 
must  admit  that  she  has  been  a  model  client,  listening  patiently  to  my 
suggestions,  but  always  deciding  for  herself. 

"  '  When  the  heirs  began  to  move  for  the  appointment  of  an  admin 
istrator,  I  wrote  to  her  that  it  was  time  the  will  was  offered  for  pro 
bate.  In  response  she  came  and  informed  me  that  on  going  to  get  the 
will  it  was  nowhere  to  be  found.  She  declared  that  she  had  not  seen 
it  nor  indeed  opened  the  desk  at  all  since  we  had  seen  it  together.  She 
averred  also,  much  to  my  surprise,  that  she  had  never  read  the  will, 
and  knew  nothing  of  its  provisions  beyond  the  fact  that  her  husband 
had  informed  her  that  he  had  made  a  will  in  her  favor.  I  had  no  copy 
of  it,  and  so  could  not  set  it  up  as  a  lost  testament.  Though  I  vaguely 
remembered  its  provisions,  I  could  not  reproduce  its  language,  which 


THE  LETTER  ASD   THE  SPIRIT.  89 

was  peculiar,  and  to  me  in  some  respects  obscure,  in  the  parts  dictated 
by  the  husband.  There  was  nothing  to  be  done,  except  to  set  forth 
these  facts  in  an  affidavit  and  ask  a  continuance  of  the  petition  for  an 
administrator  until  further  search  should  be  made  for  the  lost  instru 
ment.  This  was  the  more  readily  granted  as  it  was  universally  con 
ceded  that  the  estate  was  in  good  hands,  the  court  only  enjoining  her 
from  removing  any  of  the  slaves  from  its  jurisdiction  and  requiring  her 
to  make  report  of  the  personalty. 

"  '  Some  weeks  afterwards  Mrs.  Ainsworth  came  to  my  office,  and, 
after  making  some  inquiries  as  to  what  was  necessary  to  constitute  a 
will,  produced  several  sheets  of  paper  fastened  together  in  a  manner 
somewhat  peculiar  to  her  husband,  by  turning  down  the  upper  left- 
hand  corner  and  sticking  a  pin  through  the  folded  part.  These  sheets 
were  numbered  at  the  top,  each  page  signed  at  the  bottom,  dated  a  few 
da}*3  after  the  will  I  had  drawn,  and  were  all  in  the  unmistakable 
handwriting  of  the  testator.  This  handwriting,  it  may  be  remarked, 
was  the  most  striking  I  remember  ever  to  have  seen, — the  contracted 
letters  almost  as  long  as  the  extended  ones,  and  the  whole  utterly  with 
out  shading.  He  usually  wrote  on  unruled  paper,  yet  the  lines  were  as 
straight  as  if  laid  off  with  a  ruler.  Where  Matt  Ainsworth  acquired 
this  most  difficult  and  almost  illegible  hand  nobody  knew ;  that  he  was 
very  proud  of  it  every  one  in  this  region  was  well  aware. 

" '  The  provisions  of  this  remarkable  testament  were  identical,  so 
far  as  I  could  recall  them,  with  the  one  I  had  drawn.  Mrs.  Ainsworth's 
story  of  its  discovery  was  that  her  husband  appeared  to  her  in  a  dream 
and  directed  her  to  search  in  the  left-hand  portion  of  the  drawer  in 
which  the  other  will  had  been  deposited.  There,  under  the  bundles  of 
receipts  and  other  memoranda  of  the  business  of  recent  years,  she  had 
found  the  sheets  she  had  brought  to  me. 

"  ' This  is  the  will  we  have  to  defend.  There  is  no  doubt  about  its 
being  of  later  date  than  the  one  which  was  abstracted  from  the  desk, 
of  which  no  trace  has  been  found.  How  and  by  whom  it  was  taken  is 
a  mystery.  I  was  inclined  to  suspect  our  client,  but  am  at  a  loss  for 
a  motive — at  least  a  probable  motive — for  such  an  act.  On  the  other 
hand,  it  will  be  difficult  to  supply  a  motive  for  this  will.  It  is  all 
right  in  form.-  Ainsworth  could  have  taken  no  better  way  to  make  it 
incontestable.  There  has  been  talk  about  its  being  a  forgery,  and  they 
may  attempt  some  such  tactics  on  the  trial.  This  will  not  be  danger 
ous.  The  chief  difficulty  will  be  to  account  for  its  existence  at  all,  and 
8* 


90  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

to  show  that  it  was  found  with  the  decedent's  valuable  papers  as  the 
statute  requires.  For  this  Mrs.  Ainsworth  is  our  only  witness ;  and  I 
confess  I  am  afraid  of  the  result.' 

" '  May  not  Mr.  Ainsworth  have  feared  the  loss  of  the  attested  will 
and  provided  this  as  a  safeguard?'  I  asked. 

"  '  That,  of  course,  is  the  hypothesis  we  must  adopt,'  he  answered, 
quietly.  '  Does  it  not  seem  to  you  rather  strained  ?' 

" '  Perhaps ;  but  what  other  reason  could  there  have  been  ?  I 
understand  you  to  say  the  provisions  of  the  two  were  the 
same?' 

" i  So  far  as  I  can  remember,  they  contained  identically  the  same 
bequests.  Yet  I  am  positive  there  is  a  difference  in  the  phraseology 
which  would  prevent  me  from  testifying  that  they  were  identical. 
You  understand?' 

"  <  You  will  not  be  a  witness,  then  ?' 

" '  Not  unless  "  our  friends  the  enemy  "  put  me  on  the  stand.' 

"  There  Avas  a  flash  in  his  steel-blue  eyes  that  augured  ill  for  them 
if  they  did. 

" '  What  Avas  the  difference  you  refer  to?' 

" '  The  Avill  I  drew  described  the  principal  devisee  simply  as  his 
wife,  Luella  Robards  Ainsworth.  In  the  holograph  she  is  described 
as  "  Luella  Ainsworth,  once  knoAvn  as  Luella  Robards,  esteemed  and 
loved  as  my  faithful  Avife." J 

"  My  associate  eyed  me  keenly  as  he  repeated  these  words.  He  evi 
dently  expected  me  to  make  some  deduction  Avhich  he  hesitated  to  put 
into  Avords. 

" '  It  seems  to  be  a  somewhat  fuller  description,'  I  said,  after  a 
moment's  thought. 

"'  Fuller?'  he  repeated,  with  an  added  suaveness  in  his  silvery- 
tones,  which  I  learned  afterwards  always  marked  a  peculiarly  annihi 
lating  thrust  at  the  man  who  happened  to  be  at  his  mercy.  '  Does  it 
not  occur  to  you  that  it  is  a  totally  different  description  ?' 

"'HoAvso?'  I  asked. 

"  '  "  My  dear  Avife  Luella,"  etc.,  and  "  Luella,"  etc.,  "  esteemed  as  a 
wife.999 

"  His  eyes  Avere  half-closed,  and  the  Avords  fell  from  his  lips  in  soft 
musical  accents,  with  an  indescribable  emphasis  on  the  contrasted  terms. 
I  started  in  surprise  as  I  grasped  his  meaning.  This  smooth-mannered 
man  Avas  one  Avhose  steel-blue  eye  caught  everything  and  whose  subtle 


THE  LETTER  AND   THE  SPIRIT.  91 

brain  permitted  not  even  the  slightest  change  of  phraseology  to  pass 
unnoticed. 

"'And  you  think—?'  I  asked. 

"'I  think/  lie  interrupted,  with  a  peculiar  meaning  in  his  tone, 
'that  under  the  holograph  our  client  Luella  would  take,  whatever 
cognomen  she  may  be  legally  entitled  to  wear.  Is  not  that  your 
opinion  ?' 

"  There  was  a  grave  irony  in  his  tone  that  was  indescribably 
amusing,  and  I  answered  with  a  hearty  laugh,  but  said  nothing.  He 
smiled  pleasantly,  and  I  could  see  by  the  look  in  his  eyes  that  both  my 
laugh  and  my  silence  had  been  well-timed.  He  evidently  thought  I 
knew  more  than  I  chose  to  tell  and  was  not  likely  to  be  betrayed  into 
indiscreet  speculation. 

"  On  Monday  the  court  sat.  It  was  an  old-time  court-house,  dating 
back  almost  to  the  Revolution.  The  judge's  bench  ran  across  the  gable 
well  up  towards  the  ceiling,  and  was  approached  by  a  winding  stairway 
at  each  end.  The  bar  sat  within  a  semicircular  railing  in  front,  flanked 
on  one  side  by  the  clerk's  desk,  on  the  other  by  the  jury-box.  Every 
lawyer  as  he  entered  made  a  profound  obeisance  to  the  judge,  which 
was  gravely  acknowledged  by  that  dignitary.  Mr.  Buford  introduced 
me  first  to  the  court  and  then  to  each  member  of  the  bar.  The  latter 
were  a  splendid  company  of  gentlemen,  courteous,  unaffected,  and  of 
marked  individuality  of  character.  I  soon  found  myself  at  home 
among  them,  despite  the  strange  surroundings.  The  wooden  seats 
that  ran  around  the  enclosure  in  which  the  bar  sat  carved  by  genera 
tions  of  expectant  lawyers,  the  floor  covered  with  saw-dust,  boxes  half 
a  yard  square  filled  with  the  same  and  used  as  spittoons,  the  bucket 
of  water  standing  upon  the  stove  with  a  gourd  floating  on  its  surface, 
the  people  crowding  behind  the  bar,  unseated  except  a  few  on  the 
wooden  bench  that  ran  around  the  sides,  the  judge  peering  down  from 
his  perch  just  below  the  ceiling,  the  curious  juxtaposition  of  order  and 
disorder,  courtesy  and  grime,  seemed  very  odd  to  me,  but  I  soon  found 
myself  at  home  with  the  bright  keen  intellects  of  the  bar.  I  knew 
Mr.  Buford  was  watching  me,  and  was  conscious  that  he  was  gratified 
at  the  impression  I  made  upon  his  brethren.  He  was  no  doubt  afraid 
that  I  might  '  put  on  airs/  which  is  so  frequent  a  fault  with  the  city 
lawyer  of  the  North  when  he  condescends  to  enlighten  the  purlieus  of 
the  country  court-house.  To  such  assumption  the  Southern  bar  are 
especially  sensitive,  as  well  they  may  be,  since  it  is  doubtful  if  the  bar 


92  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

of  any  Northern  city  can  compare  in  thoroughness  of  preparation,  or 
depth  and  variety  of  attainment,  with  the  average  Southern  practitioner. 
I  was  spared  from  giving  offence  by  a  sincere  admiration  for  the  skill 
and  learning  displayed  in  the  conduct  of  the  business  of  the  court.  I 
can  honestly  say  I  never  saw  as  many  cases  disposed  off  with  so  little 
fuss  in  any  other  court  I  ever  attended. 

"  During  that  day  I  examined  the  will  on  file  in  the  clerk's  office, 
and  took  a  copy.  The  issue  had  been  transferred  to  the  Superior  Court 
for  trial  by  the  judge  and  a  jury.  I  met  our  client  too,  and  was  cer 
tainly  much  impressed  with  her  appearance.  She  was  a  slight  woman, 
somewhere  about  thirty,  or  perhaps  thirty-five,  with  gray  eyes  which 
seemed  ever  to  be  filled  with  a  calm  surprise,  and  a  mouth  rather  wide, 
but  having  lips  so  full  and  so  finely  curved  that  one  easily  forgot  its 
offence  against  perfect  symmetry.  She  said  little,  met  every  one's 
glance,  and,  without  making  any  appeal,  inclined  one  unconsciously  in 
her  favor.  Assuring  her  of  the  pleasure  I  felt  in  serving  a  daughter 
of  John  Godman,  she  replied,  with  quiet  confidence,  as  her  great  eyes 
took  me  in  from  top  to  toe, — 

"  '  He  was  a  good  judge — of  a  man.' 

"  That  was  all,  and,  though  her  look  seemed  to  confirm  her  father's 
judgment,  I  never  felt  less  flattered  in  my  life.  There  was  none  of  the 
air  of  compliment  about  it.  It  was  simply  a  statement  that  I  was  en 
gaged  for  service,  not  from  sentiment. 

"  I  do  not  know  why  I  should  have  felt  piqued  by  this  reply,  but  I 
certainly  did.  I  could  see  that  it  attracted  Mr.  Buford's  attention,  and 
he  glanced  at  me  with  a  look  of  quiet  inquiry,  as  if  taking  stock  of  my 
value.  It  was  evident  that  he  was  surprised  to  see  us  meet  as  entire 
strangers  and  to  learn  that  in  retaining  me  she  had  been  controlled  by 
judgment  rather  than  impulse. 

"  Little  was  said  about  the  case.  The  trial  was  set  for  Thursday 
morning,  and  when  Mr.  Buford  said,  inquiringly,  '  I  suppose  we  are 
ready?'  I  noticed  that  her  face  took  on  a  thoughtful  look  and  her 
mouth  assumed  a  firmer  expression  as  she  replied, — 

"  '  So  far  as  I  know,  we  are.' 

"  An  hour  later  a  note  written  in  a  slight,  nervous  hand  was 
brought,  asking  me  to  dine  with  Mrs.  Ainsworth  the  next  evening,  if 
convenient.  I  handed  it  to  Mr.  Buford. 

" '  Well,'  said  he,  with  a  smile,  '  you  will  go,  of  course  ?' 

"  ( I  think  not/  I  answered. 


THE  LETTER  AND   THE  SPIRIT.  93 

<(  ( Why  ?  She  evidently  desires  to  consult  with  you  before  the 
trial/ 

"  ( Probably ;  but  I  have  possessed  myself  of  your  views  ;  I  could 
learn  nothing  more  of  value ;  and  it  is  not  well  that  we  should  enter 
upon  the  trial  with  conflicting  hypotheses  or  half-independent  plans  of 
action/ 

"  '  But  perhaps  she  desires  to  consult  you  upon  other  matters, — to 
talk  of  her  father,  whom  you  seem  to  have  known.' 

"  <  That  can  wait/ 

"  The  matter  was  not  mentioned  again,  and  we  had  no  more  conver 
sation  upon  the  case.  During  the  next  two  days  I  consulted  with  our 
witnesses  and  briefed,  their  evidence,  so  that  by  the  time  the  case  was 
called  I  felt  that  I  thoroughly  understood  its  strength  and  weakness. 

"  I  had  already  learned  that  my  associate  was  one  of  the  most  noted 
and  successful  trial-lawyers  of  the  State.  Perhaps  the  fact  that  I  never 
excelled  in  this  direction  and  never  hoped  to  has  enabled  me  to  appre 
ciate  this  attribute  all  the  more  highly  in  others.  When  the  judge 
called  'Ainsworth  vs.  Ainsworth '  at  ten  o'clock  on  Thursday  morning, 
Mr.  Buford  was  at  once  transformed  from  the  smiling  easy  companion 
into  the  alert  and  eager  gladiator. 

" '  That  is  our  case,  Mr.  Gauge/  he  said,  in  a  tone  that  betrayed  his 
delight  in  the  coming  conflict. 

"  We  took  our  places  opposite  the  jury-box,  our  client  next  to  Mr. 
Buford,  while  I  sat  in  a  chair  at  the  end  of  the  table,  so  that  she  had 
a  counsellor  on  either  hand,  while  it  was  yet  easy  for  us  to  consult  to 
gether  by  merely  leaning  forward  across  the  corner  of  the  table.  Our 
opponents  sat  at  my  left,  directly  in  front  of  Mr.  Buford,  who  made  it 
a  rule  never  to  fight  an  enemy  except  at  point-blank  range.  Our  wit 
nesses  were  called  and  answered,  and  we  announced  that  the  proponent 
was  ready  to  proceed.  The  counsel  for  the  contestants  did  the  same ; 
the  jury  was  impanelled,  and  Mr.  Buford  opened  with  one  of  the  most 
lucid  and  masterly  statements  I  ever  heard.  Our  witnesses  were  then 
sworn,  and  my  associate  said, — 

" '  Our  first  piece  of  evidence,  if  your  honor  please,  will  be  the 
alleged  holograph  itself.  Will  you  let  me  have  it,  Mr.  Clerk?7 

'  It  is  among  the  papers/  said  that  functionary,  pointing  to  the 
bundle  on  our  table. 

" i  I  think  not/  said  Mr.  Buford,  running  over  the  file. 

"  Then  the  clerk  came  and  examined  the  papers  carefully,  turning 


94  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

inquiringly  to  the  counsel  for  the  contestants  when  he  failed  to  find 
the  required  document. 

" '  None  of  us  have  it/  said  the  senior  of  our  opponents,  with 
urbane  placidity. 

"  Then  the  clerk  made  further  search  among  the  papers  and  in  his 
pockets,  and  was  rebuked  by  the  court  for  leaving  such  an  important 
document  among  the  ordinary  files. 

" '  You  had  better  introduce  a  copy  and  proceed/  said  the  judge. 
'  The  original  will  probably  turn  up  before  the  evidence  is  all  in/ 

"  The  defendants,  of  course,  objected,  and  Mr.  Buford  seemed,  for 
once,  at  a  loss  what  to  do. 

"  '  If  your  honor  please '  he  began,  with  ,some  hesitation. 

"  I  reached  across  and  touched  his  hand.  He  bent  towards  me, 
and  I  whispered, — 

"  i  I  have  a  copy  which  I  took  the  trouble  to  verify/ 

"A  look  of  relief  came  into  his  eyes,  but  not  a  muscle  of  his 
colorless  face  betrayed  his  feeling. 

"  <  That  is  what  I  was  about  to  ask  permission  to  do/  he  continued, 
without  change  of  tone.  <  Will  your  honor  swear  the  clerk  ?^ 

"  This  was  done,  and,  having  proved  by  the  clerk  and  his  deputy 
that  a  paper-writing  purporting  to  be  the  last  will  and  testament  of 
Matthew  Ainsworth  had  been  duly  filed,  and  the  copy  I  produced  hav 
ing  been  duly  verified,  we  asked  leave  to  set  it  up  as  a  lost  will. 

"  The  defendant's  counsel  again  objected,  but  the  court  permitted  us 
to  proceed.  The  witnesses  on  both  sides  had  examined  the  original,  and 
all  but  one  or  two  pronounced  it  wholly  in  the  testator's  handwriting. 
These,  not  without  apparent  misgiving,  inclined  to  a  contrary  opinion. 
The  chief  controversy  was  as  to  the  place  where  it  was  found,  the  time 
of  finding,  and  the  disappearance  of  the  former  will.  The  examination 
of  the  proponent  was  very  severe. 

"  She  was  asked  in  regard  to  her  past  life,  and  frankly  admitted 
that  she  had  quarrelled  with  her  father  while  yet  a  school-girl,  had  run 
away  from  home,  and  had  assumed  the  name  of  Robards  to  prevent 
detection.  She  had  supported  herself  by  teaching  in  various  localities, 
and  had  finally  come  South  and  taught  in  several  families  before  meet 
ing  Mr.  Ainsworth.  Her  past  had  not  been  an  easy  or  a  pleasant  one, 
and  she  disliked  anything  that  reminded  her  of  it.  She  had  been  very 
happy  with  her  husband.  Their  tastes  had  not  always  been  the  same, 
but  she  had  derived  the  utmost  enjoyment  from  co-operating  with  him 


THE  LETTER  AND   THE  SPIRIT.  05 

and  carrying  out  his  purposes.  She  thought  no  one  would  question 
that  she  had  been  of  use  to  him  ;  and  for  her  part  she  found  it  impos 
sible  to  realize  that  he  was  dead :  in  fact,  she  could  not  help  thinking 
of  him  as  alive.  She  had  received  several  letters  from  him  after  his 
departure,  but  no  communications  by  mail  since  the  accident  to  the 
steamer.  The  last  was  from  Chicago.  She  had  them  all,  if  they 
wished  to  examine  them.  She  had  not  shown  them  to  her  counsel, 
not  supposing  it  necessary.  Her  husband  had  frequently  expressed  an 
intention  to  remove  to  the  North.  He  was  ambitious  to  engage  in  the 
struggle  for  wealth  at  the  West.  In  his  last  letter  he  had  declared  his 
intention  to  free  his  slaves,  provide  for  their  future,  and,  with  what 
might  be  left  of  his  estate,  engage  in  business  in  Chicago.  She  had 
never  encouraged  this  purpose.  She  was  quite  contented  to  live  as 
they  had  done,  not  feeling  like  encouraging  him  to  exchange  a  cer 
tainty  for  an  uncertainty.  In  regard  to  the  loss  of  the  will  she  knew 
nothing.  She  had  seen  it  for  a  moment,  in  my  hands  or  those  of  the 
deputy  clerk,  on  Monday  of  the  term.  We  were  reading,  at  least  one 
was  reading, — comparing  it  with  a  copy,  she  thought.  She  could  not 
remember  which  had  the  will.  She  had  not  seen  it  since.  In  reply  to 
a  question,  she  said  she  thought  her  husband  relied  greatly  upon  her 
judgment :  she  did  not  recollect  that  he  had  ever  neglected  her  advice 
in  any  important  matter. 

"  On  the  whole,  her  testimony  and  demeanor  were  simply  perfect, 
She  disarmed  every  prejudice  by  an  exhibition  of  the  utmost  frankness. 
So  fine  a  combination  of  shrewdness  and  candor  I  have  never  seen.  She 
seemed  to  have  divined  exactly  what  would  benefit  her  case,  and  set  it 
forth  in  the  most  artless  and  natural  manner  imaginable.  I  felt  I  had 
wronged  her  by  my  suspicion,  and  would  have  found  it  difficult  to  ex 
press  my  admiration  for  her.  Mr.  Buford  did  not  attempt  to  conceal 
his.  She  did  not  hesitate,  nor  involve  herself  in  any  inconsistency. 
The  result  was  that  the  court  held  with  us  as  to  the  sufficiency  of  the 
depository, — the  only  question  in  the  case  which  I  argued, — and  the 
jury  decided  in  our  favor  all  the  facts  necessary  to  support  the  holo 
graph. 

"The  next  day  I  visited  our  client,  took  her  instructions  as  to  cer 
tain  matters  of  business,  and,  with  several  others,  passed  the  night  at 
her  house,  whence  it  had  been  arranged  that  a  hunting-party  should 
start  on  the  morrow.  I  was  at  first  given  one  of  the  great  front  rooms, 
but  after  the  other  guests  began  to  arrive  was  asked  by  the  hostess  her- 


96  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

self  if  I  would  be  willing  to  occupy  a  chamber  which  was  just  above 
that  known  as  her  husband's  room,  which  Mr.  Buford  had  described  to 
me.  She  explained,  with  apparent  candor,  that  no  one  had  occupied  it 
since  her  husband's  disappearance,  and  she  did  not  like  to  give  it  to  a 
stranger. 

"  The  room  I  was  to  occupy  was  in  a  part  of  the  great  country- 
house  which  had  been  added  to  the  original  structure  by  the  recent 
owner  after  his  marriage.  It  was  somewhat  more  ornate  than  the  older 
portion,  but  by  no  means  as  well  constructed.  The  floor,  as  was  cus 
tomary  in  that  region,  was  uncarpeted,  and  there  were  yawning  crevices 
beneath  the  base-l)oards,  especially  at  the  rear,  caused  by  the  sinking  of 
the  foundation,  and  also  about  the  hearth  in  front  of  the  fireplace. 

"  We  passed  a  very  pleasant  evening,  the  hostess  and  some  ladies 
of  the  remoter  branches  of  her  husband's  family — who  adhered^to  her 
cause  apparently  because  of  her  devotion  to  his  memory,  but  in  fact 
because  the  setting  aside  of  the  will  would  benefit  others  rather  than 
themselves — contributing  not  a  little  to  our  enjoyment.  Mr.  Buford 
arrived  during  the  evening,  and,  to  my  surprise,  was  assigned  with 
another  gentleman  to  the  room  I  had  at  first  occupied. 

"  It  was  not  late  when  we  retired,  for  the  horn  was  to  sound  early  in 
the  morning.  I  fell  asleep  at  once,  and  slept  quietly  until  awakened  by 
voices  in  the  room  below, — one  apparently  that  of  a  man,  the  other  un 
mistakably  that  of  a  woman.  I  did  not  mean  to  listen ;  indeed,  there 
was  no  need  to  do  so  to  learn  that  the  latter  was  unquestionably  the 
voice  of  my  client.  She  spoke  without  any  restraint,  clearly  and  dis 
tinctly,— so  clearly,  indeed,  that  I  at  first  thought  she  must  be  in  the 
roonTwhere  I  was.  The  man's  voice  was  curiously  muffled  and  indistinct. 
I  was  sure  it  was  not  one  I  knew,  and  I  became  strangely  confused  as  I 
thought  I  might  be  acting  the  spy  upon  a  midnight  meeting  of  a  char 
acter  by  no  means  creditable  to  the  parties  or  listeners.  Then  it  flashed 
upon  me  that  this  woman  whom  I  had  all  along  distrusted  had  placed 
me  here  in  order  that  I  might  be  a  witness  for  her  and  against  her  par 
amour.  This  I  thought  was  the  reason  she  spoke  so  loud,  while  her 
companion  took  such  pains  to  muffle  his  tones. 

"  I  was  not  allowed  any  opportunity  to  doubt  the  character  of  the 
clandestine  meeting  to  which  I  was  an  unwilling  listener.  Her  conver 
sation  was  plentifully  garnished  with  words  of  extravagant  endearment. 
There  was  laughter,  too,  the  sweet  contented  laughter  of  a  loving 
woman,— the  man  did  not  laugh,— and  kisses !  You  may  guess  how 


THE  LETTER  AND   THE  SPIRIT.  97 

I  flushed  with  shame  as  I  heard  them.  I  do  not  know  that  I  was  sur 
prised, — hardly  anything  this  woman  could  have  done  would  have  sur 
prised  me, — but  I  was  mortified  beyond  expression  at  the  thought  that 
she  had  made  a  fool  of  me.  Which  one  of  my  companions  of  the  mor 
row  was  it  that  she  was  making  the  victim  of  her  wiles  ?  I  did  not 
know,  and  determined  that  I  would  not.  Just  as  I  reached  this  con 
clusion,  she  addressed  him  by  name.  Somehow  the  name  seemed  famil 
iar,  but  I  could  not  recall  which  of  her  guests  would  answer  to  it.  I 
soon  became  aware  that  she  was  telling  her  companion  about  the  trial. 
She  spoke  of  me  with  plain,  cool  commendation,  as  one  who  '  thought 
of  the  right  thing  at  the  right  time/  told  him  what  instructions  she 
had  given  me,  and  asked  his  approval.  Everything  had  happened,  she 
said,  just  as  her  companion  had  predicted.  She  then  asked  his  wishes 
in  regard  to  other  matters,  and  finally,  before  I  had  time  to  overcome 
my  confusion,  I  heard  her  pleading  with  him  not  to  go.  She  called 
him  '  dear/  '  beloved/  '  husband/  and  implored  him  in  the  most  impas 
sioned  tones  to  remain.  Then  I  heard  her  begging  him  to  forgive  her 
for  some  wrong  she  had  done  him ;  again  she  called  him  by  name, — 
his  Christian  name, — Matthew !  How  tenderly  and  reverently  she 
uttered  it ! 

" i  Oh,  Matthew — Matthew  Ainsworth,  if  you  knew  how  I  love 
you, — how  truly  I  have  always  loved  you, — you  would  never  leave 
me, — you  would  never  have  left  me  I' 

"  '  Good  heavens  !'  I  thought,  '  it  is  her  husband, — the  man  whose 
will  was  yesterday  sustained  by  the  court P  Yet  if  he  were  alive  it 
could  not  be  his  will. 

"  The  position  in  which  I  now  found  myself  was  hardly  less  dis 
creditable  than  that  in  which  I  thought  myself  placed  as  the  witness 
of  an  illicit  amour.  What  was  my  duty  ?  I  was  of  counsel  and  had 
been  instrumental  in  procuring  a  curious  result, — the  probate  of  a  living 
man's  will !  Of  course  there  was  an  appeal,  and  the  wrong  might  yet 
be  prevented ;  but  what  sort  of  a  position  would  I  be  placed  in  if  I  at 
tempted  to  remedy  it  ?  Would  I  ever  be  believed  ?  Besides  that,  cui 
bono  f  If  the  testator  and  his  devisee  saw  fit  to  play  such  a  game,  why 
should  I  object?  They  undoubtedly  had  their  reasons  for  it.  At  least 
it  was  their  business,  and  not  mine.  The  lady  was  my  client,  and 
though  what  had  been  done  was  contrary  to  all  legal  morality,  yet,  as 
no  one  had  any  right  to  complain  of  a  husband  and  wife  playing  at  such 
a  game  with  what  was  their  own,  I  concluded  to  say  nothing  about  it, 
9  E 


98  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

but  be  careful  that  this  strange  woman,  with  her  great  wondering  eyes. 
did  not  get  me  into  any  worse  difficulty.  I  had  agreed  to  undertalve  cer 
tain  matters  for  her,— nothing  less  than  the  purchase  of  lands  in  Ohio 
on  which  to  settle  the  slaves  she  was  to  free.  There  could  be  no  harm 
in  this.  Yet  I  resolved  even  in  this  to  be  very  careful,  and  to  decline 
all  further  business.  You  see,  I  was  pretty  cautious,  even  then." 

A  smile  went  round  the  little  group  at  the  allusion  to  what  was 
sometimes  regarded  as  his  special  failing. 

"I  had  intended  to  remain  at  Edgewood  for  several  days,  but  this 
incident  made  me  anxious  to  leave  as  soon  as  possible.  The  arrival 
of  the  mail  the  next  day  after  the  morning  run  gave  me  the  oppor 
tunity.  I  was  not  much  of  a  horseman,  but  I  was  reared  in  the  coun 
try  and  had  learned  as  a  boy  to  stay  on  a  horse.  I  had  borne  myself 
well  enough  in  the  hunt  to  merit  the  commendation  of  those  who  were 
experienced,  and  could  therefore  quit  without  imputation.  There  was 
to  be  a  deer-hunt  in  the  afternoon.  After  glancing  over  my  letters,  I 
announced  that  I  must  leave  the  next  morning.  After  the  failure  of 
various  efforts  to  induce  me  to  change  my  determination,  my  hostess 
said  that  as  I  would  have  to  leave  early,  and  she  wished  to  consult 
with  me  upon  business,  she  would  interpose  her  veto  against  my  going 
on  the  hunt  and  ask  me  to  give  her  the  afternoon. 

"  So  it  was  that  after  the  noonday  meal  I  was  ushered  into  the  room 
her  husband  had  occupied  and  given  a  great  leather-bottomed  rocker  on 
one  side  of  a  smouldering  fire,  on  which  the  hickory  ashes  lay  heaped 
and  white.  The  morning  had  been  chill,  and  the  hint  of  artificial 
warmth  that  filled  the  room  was  very  grateful.  My  hostess  sat  on  the 
other  side  of  the  hearth,  near  her  husband's  desk.  She  was  certainly 
one  of  the  most  attractive  women  I  have  ever  met.  The  only  thing 
that  seemed  odd  about  her  was  that  she  held  nothing  in  her  hands. 
They  did  not  even  caress  each  other.  I  do  not  remember  any  Bother 
woman  whom  I  have  ever  known  to  sit  down  for  a  consultation  without 
something  to  occupy  her  hands  while  she  gave  her  mind  to  business. 

"  I  was  curious* to  know  why  I  had  heard  so  plainly  what  had  gone 
on  in  this  room  the  night  before,  and  almost  before  seating  myself  was 
exploring  the  ceiling  to  discover  the  cause.  It  was  not  difficult  to  per 
ceive  the  reason,  the  room  was  ceiled  with  the  clear  heart-pine  of  that 
region,  but  around  the  sides  was  a  pretentious  cornice,  from  the  brackets 
of  which  hung  pictures,  trophies  of  the  chase,  and  other  relics  of  the 
departed.  It  was  evident  that  the  bungling  carpenter  had  only  run  the 


THE  LETTER  AND  THE  SPIRIT.  99 

ceiling-boards  out  under  the  edge  of  the  cornice,  leaving  the  open  space 
behind  to  act  in  connection  with  the  cracks  below  the  base-boards  in  the 
room  above  as  an  ever-ready  speaking-tube  between  the  two.  In  a  sense, 
it  was  a  very  delightful  room.  There  was  in  it  that  air  of  masculine 
domination  which  marked  it  as  a  man's  especial  realm,  while  the  evi 
dences  of  a  woman's  presence  were  sufficiently  numerous  to  show  that 
it  had  long  been  subject  to  joint  occupancy.  I  saw  at  a  glance  the 
secret  of  my  client's  power  over  her  husband.  She  had  subordinated 
herself  wholly  to  his  interest  and  happiness.  The  room  had  been  built 
opening  off  the  bedchamber,  as  a  boudoir  for  her ;  she  had  made  it  a 
smoking-  and  lounging-room  for  him,  counting  herself  only  as  one  of 
its  movable  attractions. 

"  She  noticed  my  scrutiny,  and  said,  with  a  smile,  but  without  any 
trace  of  embarrassment, — 

"  '  Did  you  hear  anything  unusual  last  night  ?' 

"I  admitted  with  a  shrug  that  my  rest  had  not  been  undisturbed. 

"  f  I  can  understand/  she  replied,  with  a  quiet  dignity, '  that  it  must 
seem  very  strange  to  you.  I  do  not  understand  it  myself,  and,  as  I 
thought  I  ought  to  have  advice  upon  the  matter,  I  concluded  to  trust 
you  rather  than  Mr.  Buford ;  not  that  I  lack  confidence  in  him,  but 
somehow  I  would  rather  not  speak  of  the  matter  to  one  living  in  this 
vicinity.  That  is  one  of  the  reasons  I  desired  you  should  be  retained 
in  the  case.  I  do  not  know  why,  but  I  can  speak  more  freely  to  you, 
— perhaps  because  we  were  reared  under  similar  conditions.7  There  was 
not  a  hint  of  flattery  in  this, — just  a  plain  statement  of  a  very  natural 
fact.  *  If  you  heard  what  occurred  here  last  night/  she  continued,  as  if 
stating  the  most  ordinary  event, '  you  are  already  aware  that  Matthew — 
my  husband — visited  me;  and  I  may  say  to  you  that  he  comes  every  night, 
is  as  pleasant  and  natural  as  ever,  but  I  cannot  induce  him  to  sit  down 
or  stay.  He  is  tender  and  loving,  but  seems  grieved  at  something  I 
have  done.  For  a  while  I  locked  the  door,  but  every  night  he  came 
and  tapped  on  the  window  as  he  used  to  do  when  he  came  home  late. 
So  now  I  leave  the  door  open,  and  he  comes  and  goes  at  will.  He  has 
advised  me  in  all  this  matter.  I  did  not  wish  to  do  it,  because  I  could 
not  swear  I  thought  him  dead,  you  see ;  but  others  think  so,  and  he 
gets  terribly  angry  if  I  speak  of  betraying  him.  So,  too,  I  could  not 
say  I  had  received  no  letters  from  him  since  his  supposed  death.  You 
noticed  that  I  merely  said  that  I  had  had  no  communication  with  him 
by  mail  since  that  time.  Why,  I  get  letters  from  him  almost  every 


100  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

night.  He  brings  one,  and  I  find  it  on  the  desk  in  the  morning.  Here 
they  are/  she  said,  taking  up  a  package  from  the  desk.  '  There  is  one 
I  received  this  morning.  You  see  I  am  doing  just  what  he  advises.7 

"  She  handed  me  an  open  letter  as  she  spoke.  I  started  with  sur 
prise.  It  was  undoubtedly  the  same  handwriting  as  the  will.  I  had 
seen  other  specimens  of  Mr.  Ainsworth's  writing,  too,  and  could  not 
mistake  it.  It  counselled  the  most  implicit  confidence  in  my  judgment 
and  directed  her  to  follow  my  advice  in  all  things.  I  could  not  but 
smile  at  the  reasons  given  for  this  :  they  were  sound  enough,  but  by  no 
means  such  as  my  vanity  would  have  dictated. 

"'Well/  she  asked,  with  a  smile,  'what  shall  I  do?  You  see  I 
am  put  in  your  charge  with  no  more  discretion  than  if  I  were  a  baby. 
I  don't  understand  it.  It  is  not  like  Matthew  to  do  so;  but  I  suppose 
he  has  his  reasons,  and  I  have  never  failed  to  comply  with  any  wish  of 
his/ 

u  I  did  not  know  what  to  make  of  the  woman  or  her  story. 

" '  Will  you  let  me  see  his  letters  ?'  I  asked. 

"  '  Certainly/  she  replied.  '  There  they  are.  You  will  find  some 
love  in  them,  perhaps,  but  you  will  excuse  that.  Matthew  has  never 
ceased  to  be  a  lover/ 

"  There  were  tears  in  her  eyes  as  she  spoke. 

"  'And  now  may  I  go  and  think?'  I  asked,  with  the  letters  in  my 
hand. 

"  '  You  may  stay  and  think/  she  rejoined,  with  a  smile.    ( I  will  go.? 

"  She  rose  as  she  spoke,  but  still  hesitated.  She  had  taken  a  hand 
kerchief  from  her  pocket  to  wipe  her  eyes,  and  now  stood  wadding  it 
up  and  picking  it  apart  as  she  said, — 

"  '  He  has  told  me  to  trust  you  implicitly  and  tell  you  everything. 
I  suppose  I  ought  to  do  it;  but  it  is  very  hard.  I  shall  have  to  tell 
you  what  I  never  told  him,  but  what  he  seems  to  have  found  out.  I 
was  married  before  I  met  him;  and  my  husband  is  still  alive  T 

"  She  cast  down  her  eyes  and  grew  deathly  pale  as  she  spoke  these 
words. 

"  '  But  you  were  divorced  ?'  I  said. 

"  She  shook  her  head,  but  did  not  answer.  While  I  stood  stupefied 
with  amazement,  she  stepped  silently  backward  into  her  own  room,  and 
I  heard  the  bolt  shot  into  its  place  as  the  door  closed. 

"  The  fact  which  she  had  stated  seemed  a  solution  of  the  whole 
mystery.  The  devoted  husband,  having  discovered  that  his  marriage 


THE  LETTER  AND   T}IE  SPIRIT.  101 


was  void,  had  become  anxious  only  to  extricate  tlie*  woniaA  he  loved 
from  her  perilous  position,  and  for  tfiat  «fe»ui'pcis^'l?a^l.' tjciyi^d.^ill  that 
had  seemed  so  unnatural  and  mysterious.  '  'Th'e'  leUefs'xtoifnTrritsd  this 
impression.  They  advised  her  day  by  day  and  step  by  step.  He  had 
renounced  his  place  as  her  husband,  but  did  not  seek  to  hide  his  love. 
He  evidently  trusted  me,  and  desired  me  to  help  him  care  for  and  save 
from  peril  and  disgrace  the  woman  he  loved. 

"  A  tender  regard  for  this  great  self-sacrificing  nature  awoke  in  my 
heart  as  I  read  the  letters.  Could  I  help  him  ?  I  reviewed  the  situa 
tion.  I  could  not  make  myself  a  party  to  a  fraud ;  but  was  this  fraud  ? 
I  could  not  quite  understand  why  he  should  take  the  course  he  had, 
but  he  had  an  unquestioned  right  to  do  as  he  saw  fit.  I  decided  to  do 
as  he  wished.  At  the  same  time,  I  had  an  irrepressible  desire  to  see 
this  wonderful  man.  I  thought  I  could  help  him  more  effectively  if  I 
could  talk  with  him  face  to  face  a  few  minutes.  I  wondered  where  he 
kept  himself  concealed  in  this  neighborhood  where  he  was  so  well 
known.  His  presence,  of  course,  accounted  for  one  of  the  missing 
wills, — perhaps  for  both.  Well,  I  would  help  him  in  his  own  way. 

"  When  I  had  reached  this  conclusion,  I  tapped  on  her  door.  After 
a  moment  she  entered^  her  face  flushed,  but  composed  and  tranquil. 
For  the  first  time,  I  felt  a  real  sympathy  for  her. 

" '  You  must  have  suffered  greatly/  I  said. 

"  She  drew  a  long  breath,  as  if  relieved  from  suspense.  '  Words 
cannot  express  what  I  have  endured/ 

"  '  Your  husband,— Robards—  ?' 

" ( That  was  not  his  name/  she  said,  in  a  tone  as  hard  as  steel. 
(  That  is  why  I  assumed  it/ 

"  '  Can  nothing  be  done — with  him  ?' 

"  She  shook  her  head. 

" '  Does  he  know  where  you  are  ?' 

"  '  He  thinks  me  dead.  You  see,  I  was  drowned,  and  an  inquest 
held  over  me/  she  answered,  '  after  he  left  me.  I  meant  to  die, — and 
would  have  died  but  for  my  daughter.  Somebody  did  die  and  was 
buried  in  my  stead.  There  is  the  account  of  it/ 

"She  handed  me  a  newspaper  slip  as  she  spoke,  containing  an 
account  of  a  celebrated  disappearance  the  horror  of  which  I  well  re 
membered. 

"  <  You  see  I  am  mad  as  well  as  dead/  she  added,  bitterly. 

"'And  your  daughter ?'  I  asked. 


102  WITH  QAVGE  &  SWALLOW. 

"'The'woman  in  whose 'care  I  left  her  no  doubt  believed  the  ac 
count  of  :my-dea'i:h,,\\' Before-  I  dared  communicate  with  her,  she  too 
disappeared!  I'faTve'  tried  tb  find  her,  but  cannot.  Oh,  my  child  ! 
my  child  !' 

"  I  pitied  the  woman  all  the  more  that  she  did  not  stoop  to  rail 
against  her  husband  or  excuse  herself.  She  told  what  was  absolutely 
necessary  to  tell,  offering  no  apology  or  explanation.  She  was  not 
thinking  of  herself  or  me,  but  only  of  the  man  she  loved  and  the  child 
she  had  lost. 

"  '  And  how  much  of  this  did  you  tell  your  husband, — Ainsworth, 
I  mean  ?' 

"  '  Not — one — word/  she  replied,  positively. 

" '  Very  well/  I  said.     '  I  will  do  what  I  can/ 

"  She  crossed  to  the  door  that  led  into  the  sitting-room,  opened  it, 
and  I  passed  out. 

"  That  night  I  again  heard  the  conversation  in  the  room  below. 
It  occurred  to  me  that  I  might  as  well  have  an  interview  with  my 
unknown  client  and  tell  him  a  thing  or  two.  So  I  slipped  on  my 
clothes  and  stole  carefully  down  the  stairs.  As  I  expected,  I  found  the 
sitting-room  door  unlocked,  and,  turning  the  knob,  I  looked  in.  I 
have  seen  a  good  many  curious  things,  but  what  I  saw  that  night 
surprised  me  more  than  anything  else  it  has  been  my  fortune  to 
witness. 

"  The  room  was  brilliantly  lighted.  At  the  desk  sat  Mrs.  Ains 
worth,  clad  in  a  white  wrapper,  her  face  aglow  with  happiness,  chatter 
ing  away  to  the  portrait  of  her  husband  that  stood  before  her,  and  an 
swering  herself  in  a  voice  so  changed  that  it  was  no  wonder  I  had  not 
recognized  it.  While  I  stood  with  the  door  ajar,  transfixed  with  won 
der  at  what  I  saw,  she  ceased  to  talk  and  began  to  write.  Satisfied  of 
her  condition,  a  new  question  arose  in  my  mind.  Did  she  write  the 
letters  I  had  read  ?  and,  if  so,  who  wrote  the  will  ? 

"  Slipping  into  the  room,  I  closed  the  door  and  stepped  forward 
until  I  could  see  over  her  shoulder.  One  glance  was  enough  :  it  was 
the  exact  counterpart  of  her  husband's  handwriting  !  After  watching 
her  a  few  moments,  I  stole  back  to  bed,  more  puzzled  than  ever.  People 
did  not  talk  so  glibly  about  spiritual  influence  then  as  they  do  now,  but 
I  must  confess  that  'something  of  the  kind  occurred  to  me  as  the  only 
explanation  of  the  riddle  I  had  seen.  After  all,  it  was  only  a  woman's 
love  and  a  woman's  woe  working  on  a  woman's  conscience, — a  conscience 


THE  LETTER  AND   THE  SPIRIT.  IGo 

keener  than  a  Damascus  blade  in  sleep,  and  duller  than  a  Bushman's 
cleaver  when  awake.  This  was  my  conclusion  as  I  fell  asleep. 

u '  I  am  going  to  advise  Mrs.  Ainsworth  to  go  North  very  soon/  I 
said  to  Mr.  Buford  as  I  met  him  the  next  morning. 

" '  And  I  should  advise  you  to  go  at  once/  was  his  placid  reply. 

"Tin  going,  of  course/  I  said,  lightly;  'but  why  should  you 
advise  it?7 

" i  I  understand  you  were  seen  coming  from  a  lady's  room  last 
night/  he  answered,  icily. 

"I  think  I  hardly  flushed  at  this  insinuation.  ' And  is  this  the 
reason  you  advise  my  going?' 

« <  Certainly.7 

"  '  Then  I  Will  stay.' 

"  '  As  you  please/  was  his  careless  reply. 

" '  Mr.  Buford/  I  said,  i  I  don't  know  much  about  your  code  of 
honor,  but  I  do  know  that  common  decency  requires  that  a  man  should 
not  run  away  and  leave  a  woman  to  suffer  detraction  unjustly  on  his 
account.  Nothing  has  ever  passed  between  this  woman  and  myself 
that  every  one  is  not  welcome  to  know.  I  wish  I  could  tell  you  all  I 
have  learned  ;  but  I  am  bound  in  honor  not  to  do  so.  What  occurred 
last  night  was  this.  I  heard,  as  I  thought,  two  voices  in  the  room 
below.  I  had  reason  to  suspect  that  something  was  wrong.  I  went 
down  and  looked  in.  What  I  saw  Avas  a  woman  worshipping  her  hus 
band's  portrait  in  her  sleep, — laughing  at  it,  talking  to  it  as  if  it  were 
alive, — as  she  really  believes  him  to  be.  I  shall  advise  her  to  go  North 
by  water  from  Richmond,  because  if  this  thing  keeps  up  she  will  surely 
die.  She  must  have  fresh  surroundings, — new  associations.' 

"  '  Is  this  true  ?'  asked  Buford,  keenly. 

" ( Every  word.' 

" '  I  am  glad  to  believe  it/  he  replied,  with  dignity,  '  and  beg  your 
pardon  for  my  unjust  remark.  I  am  the  only  one  who  knows  what 
happened.' 

"  'And  you?'  I  asked,  with  sudden  suspicion. 

" '  I  heartily  approve  your  plan,  sir/  was  the  reply." 

"  What  became  of  her  ?"  asked  Minton,  when  the  Senior  paused. 

"Oh,  she  disposed  of  the  estate,  came  North,  emancipated  the 
slaves,  and  invested  the  remnant  of  the  proceeds  in  Chicago  real  estate. 
I  did  most  of  her  business  for  several  years, — always  against  Burrill's 
protest.  You  see,  she  used  to  send  me  letters  from  her  husband,  ad- 


104  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

vising  the  most  unexpected  transactions,  which  always  turned  out  well. 
At  first  she  no  doubt  believed  that  he  was  alive  and  that  these  letters 
were  veritable  messages  from  him.  She  made  no  effort  to  verify  this 
belief,  but  just  waited  for  him  to  proclaim  himself  openly.  At  length 
I  ventured  to  tell  her  what  I  knew.  The  shock  was  very  great.  She 
put  on  mourning,  and  her  beautiful  brown  hair  soon  became  gray. 
Still  the  letters  continued.  She  did  not  lose  any  faith  in  their  verity, 
but  counted  them  as  ghostly  communications  from  the  man  she  mourned 
as  dead.  Her  hand,  she  said,  was  guided  by  his  spirit.  She  attested 
her  sincerity  by  making  good  to  the  contestants  what  they  had  lost  by 
the  will.  It  is  amazing  how  accurate  these  mysterious  prognostications 
were.  She  obeyed  them  in  everything,  and  prospered  wonderfully 
under  spiritual  guidance." 

"  Spiritual !"  echoed  Burrill,  with  a  sneer. 

"  Burrill  never  would  believe  in  their  celestial  origin,"  said  the 
Senior,  with  a  significant  smile,  "  and  never  touched  the  papers  except 
by  my  express  command.  For  years  I  did  almost  all  the  work  myself, 
just  to  spare  his  prejudices." 

"I've  no  fancy  for  the  devil's  billet-doux,"  said  Burrill,  with  a 
shrug. 

"  Did  you  ever  learn  what  became  of  her  husband  ?"  I  asked. 

"Which  one?" 

"  I  meant  Ainsworth,"  I  replied,  "  though  the  other  was  really  her 
husband,  I  suppose." 

"  Yes,  undoubtedly.  She  was  neither  Ainsworth's  wife  nor  legatee. 
Her  husband  died  a  few  years  after,  without  any  suspicion  that  his  wife 
was  still  alive." 

"  I  suppose  no  one  ever  learned  what  really  became  of  Ainsworth  ?" 
said  Minton,  reflectively. 

"  He  died  the  other  day,  and,  as  I  am  the  custodian  of  his  will,  I 
have  just  been  summoned  to  produce  it  in  Chicago.  I  shall  have  to 
send  some  one,  as  I  cannot  leave  the  city  for  a  week  or  more." 

"  Not  me,  sir !"  said  Burrill,  excitedly  pushing  the  papers  away 
from  him.  "  I've  had  enough  of  the  devil's  business.  I  thought  you 
dropped  the  whole  thing  long  ago." 

"  So  I  did,"  said  the  Senior,  with  a  laugh ;  "  but  one  day,  about  the 
beginning  of  the  civil  war,  a  man  came  in  and  inquired  for  me.  As 
it  happened,  I  was  the  only  one  in  the  office.  He  wore  a  uniform, — 
said  he  was  under  orders  to  go  to  the  front,  and  wanted  to  execute  his 


THE  LETTER  AND   THE  SPIRIT.  105 

will.  It  was  already  drawn,  lie  said,  but  he  would  like  me  to  see  that 
it  was  in  due  form  and  have  it  properly  attested.  I  opened  the  paper 
he  handed  me,  and  was  horrified  to  recognize  the  familiar  handwriting 
of  the  ghostly  missives.  Turning  to  the  signature,  I  saw  the  name 
Matthew  Ainsworth.  He  refused  to  answer  any  questions,  but,  seeing 
in  whose  favor  the  instrument  was  drawn,  I  told  him  all  I  knew  about 
the  woman  he  had  thought  his  wife.  I  shall  never  forget  the  light  that 
came  into  his  face  as  he  realized  the  devotion  of  the  woman  he  loved 
to  his  memory.  '  Quick  !'  he  exclaimed ;  '  the  witnesses  !?  Then,  look 
ing  at  his  watch,  he  declared  that  he  had  still  time  to  see  her  before  his 
leave  expired  if  he  caught  the  next  train.  I  called  a  couple  of  friends 
from  an  adjoining  office,  saw  the  will  attested,  and  left  with  him  for 
Chicago  an  hour  afterwards.  They  were  married  on  our  arrival.  It 
was  a  great  shock  for  her  to  learn  that  the  man  she  had  dreamed  of  as 
watching  over  her  from  the  spirit-world  had  in  truth  been  doggedly 
working  and  prospering  in  the  same  city,  quite  unconscious  of  her 
presence  near  him.  Yes,  he  had  made  a  slight  change  of  name :  he 
was  called  Ensworth  instead  of  Ainsworth.  It  was  by  what  she  said 
in  her  sleep  that  he  first  obtained  an  inkling  as  to  the  secrets  of  her 
previous  life,  and  when  he  found  the  evil  incurable  he  just  took  him 
self  out  of  the  way,  never  expecting  to  see  her  again,  but  loving  her 
just  as  much  as  ever.  After  that  we  had  no  business  from  her  until 
this  morning  I  was  summoned  to  produce  the  will.  As  it  happens,  I 
cannot  go,  and  Burrill  won't :  so  I  think  you  must,  Mr.  Minton."  The 
Senior  turned  inquiringly  towards  him  as  he  spoke. 

"  Just  as  you  say,"  replied  Minton,  nonchalantly  beginning  to  put 
his  desk  in  order.  "  I  suppose  there  is  no  time  to  lose  ?" 

"  Well,  no,"  answered  the  Senior,  deliberately,  "  though  there  is  no 
special  haste.  Of  course  there  will  have  to  be  a  commission  to  take 
testimony  before  the  will  can  be  admitted  to  probate,  and  you  may 
have  to  remain  there  several  weeks.  Why  not  take  your  wife  along 
and  have  a  good  time?" 

"  I  should  like  to  do  that,"  said  Minton,  his  face  lighting  up  with 
pleasure. 

"All  right!  Here  is  a  check  for  expenses,"  said  Mr.  Gauge. 
"  You  may  as  well  use  it  all." 

Minton  seemed  about  to  protest,  but  the  Senior  said,  laughingly, — 

"  It  won't  hurt  you,  and  she  can  afford  it.  Send  a  message  to  your 
wife,  and  get  off  as  soon  as  you  can." 

E* 


106  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

"  I'll  do  it,"  said  Mr.  Minton,  as  he  put  on  his  coat  and  went  out. 

"  He's  a  good  fellow,"  said  the  Senior,  watching  his  retreating  fig 
ure, — "  a  good  fellow, — and  I'm  sorry  to  lose  him." 

"  Lose  him  !"  ejaculated  Burrill. 

Mr.  Gauge  laughed,  and  laid  a  telegram  on  the  desk  before  the  old 
clerk : 

"  Send  Minton  with  will.     Have  him  bring  wife.     Draft  by  mail. 

"  LUELLA  ENSWORTH." 

"  Put  it  with  the  papers  and  seal  them  up,"  said  the  Senior,  as  he 
started  for  his  own  room.  "  Ainsworth  vs.  Ainsworth  is  finally  closed." 

"  I  don't  know  about  that/'  muttered  Burrill,  as  he  tied  up  the 
package.  "  What  do  you  suppose  the  old  cat  means,  ordering  Minton 
and  his  wife  sent  to  her  by  express,  like  a  couple  of  packages  she  has 
bought  and  paid  for  ?  Didn't  the  old  man  do  it  neatly,  though  ?"  he 
added,  with  sudden  appreciation  of  the  skill  the  Senior  had  shown  in 
complying  with  the  request.  "Oh,  he's  sharp!  He  never  makes  mis 
takes  in  anything, — big  or  little !" 


V. 

A  SHATTERED  IDOL. 

ie  countlT>  ^r-  Fountain  ?" 

There  was  a  yearning  quaver  in  Mr.  Burrill's  voice  as  he 
asked  the  question.  lie  stood  looking  down  upon  the  street,  where 
men  w'ere  sweltering  on  the  sunny  side,  and  mopping  their  heads  in 
the  shadow.  It  was  early  summer.  The  sun  was  hot  by  day,  but  the 
breeze  came  coolly  up  the  bay  at  night,  and  the  tide  of  life  yet  ran 
strong  and  bright  along  the  crowded  thoroughfares.  The  new  leaves 
were  still  a  glossy  green.  The  dust  had  not  yet  penetrated  everywhere. 
The  streets  and  roofs  were  washed  with  frequent  showers.  It  was  just 
at  that  season  when  the  city-dweller  dreams  of  green  fields  and  flowery 
glades,  not  because  the  city  is  uncomfortable,  but  because  of  the  beauty 
its  glimpses  of  verdure  suggest. 

I  am  not  enthusiastic  over  country  life.  I  was  "  raised,"  as  we  say, 
"  on  a  farm,"  and  my  memories  of  that  time  are  chiefly  of  dirt,  dis 
comfort,  and  weariness.  My  youth  was  not  one  of  ease  or  pleasure, 
and  I  seldom  look  back  to  it  regretfully.  In  nature's  most  perfect 
moods,  and  under  the  most  favorable  conditions,  the  country  is  no 
doubt  unapproachable, — a  type  of  heaven.  But  these  moods  are  so 
rare,  and  the  requisite  conditions  so  seldom  concur,  that  the  country- 
bred  Apostle,  "  in  the  spirit,"  upon  Patmos,  dreamed  of  heaven  as  a 
city  having  but  a  single  tree.  In  fact,  none  of  the  Biblical  writers 
seem  to  think  a  permanent  residence  in  the  country  a  thing  to  be 
desired.  In  this  I  agree  with  them.  I  should  hate  to  think  of  my 
mother  condemned  to  an  eternity  of  country  life.  I  am  sure  her  celes 
tial  vision  has  always  been  of  an  "  eternal  city." 

"  I  suppose  so,"  was,  therefore,  my  not  very  hearty  answer  to  Bur- 
rill's  question. 

"Oh,  I  don't  mean  to  live  in,"  said  the  old  man,  apologetically, 
as  if  he  divined  my  thought,  "  but  just  to  pass  a  day,  to  dream,  to 
loiter  in." 

107 


108  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

"At  a  resort?" 

"Oh,  no,  no,"  with  a  gesture  of  disgust;  "just  in  the  country, — 
alone  or  with  a  friend, — doing  nothing,  you  know." 

I  assented  with  a  shrug. 

"  Oh,  you  don't  know  what  I  mean  at  all.  In  London,  now, — you 
know  I  never  lived  in  the  country,  and  never  was  there  more  than  a 
week  at  a  time,  if  so  long,  before  I  came  here.  I  didn't  belong  to 
what  is  called  society,  the  little  class  that  stands  for  all  English  life  to 
the  American.  I  never  shot  nor  hunted,  never  was  on  a  horse  jn  my 
life,  and  never  fished  for  anything  more  gamy  than  a  roach  in  the  old 
country.  But  there  is  one  thing  that  one  living  there  has  the  ad 
vantage  of  us  in.  He  can  go  to  the  country  for  a  day  or  two,  and 
not  be  in  a  caravansary.  By  running  out  a  few  miles  on  the  railway, 
with  an  hour  or  an  hour  and  a  half's  walk,  if  he  knows  the  country, 
he  can  always  find  a  tidy  little  public  with  a  bit  of  water  or  wood 
handy,  where  he  can  be  really  alone,  have  a  good  meal  served  in  his 
room,  enjoy  a  quiet  evening,  get  a  good  bed,  and  run  back  to  town  for 
his  day's  work,  if  he  likes. 

"  No,  you  cannot  get  it  here,"  he  continued,  seeing  me  shake  my 
head,  "and  I  miss  it,  I  really  do,  you  know, — especially  since  M'mton 
left  us." 

The  old  man  sat  down,  turned  his  office-chair  half  around,  so  that  his 
back  was  towards  me,  and  drummed  absently  on  the  rail  that  enclosed 
his  desk.  There  was  something  pathetic  in  the  loneliness  of  the  old 
clerk  and  in  the  yearning  which  the  spring-time  brought  to  one  who 
had  lived  all  his  life  shut  in  by  brick  walls.  He  had  a  great  affection 
for  Minton,  and  for  his  wife  too,  and  had  been  very  lonely  since 
their  departure,  though  hardly  a  day  passed  that  he  did  not  hear 
from  one  or  the  other.  I  think  he  hardly  knew  how  much  they 
were  to  him  until  they  had  gone.  As  for  myself,  I  ought  to  have 
been  glad  Minton  was  no  longer  in  the  office,  but  I  was  not.  I 
don't  think  anybody  was,  least  of  all  Mr.  Gauge  and  Mr.  Swallow. 
I  hardly  know  which  of  the  partners  missed  him  most.  He  was  so 
thorough  and  reliable  that  they  had  come  to  lean  on  him  more 
than  they  knew ;  yet  he  made  so  little  fuss  about  his  work  that 
they  scarcely  realized  how  much  he  did.  I  always  thought  of  him  as 
a  sort  of  chief-of-staff  for  the  firm,  subject  to  orders,  yet  commanding 
where  not  specifically  directed,  while  Bronson  was  more  like  an  aide-de- 
camp,  of  high  rank,  but  no  inherent  authority.  I  had  no  special  rea- 


A  SHATTERED  IDOL.  109 

son  to  like  him.  He  had  been  kind  to  me,  but  in  a  sort  of  half-amused 
way  that  used  to  vex  me  sometimes.  Yet  I  think  he  really  liked  me, 
and  I  was  glad  to  be  remembered  in  his  letters. 

His  departure  was  in  some  sense  a  decided  advantage  to  me. 
While  it  did  not  cause  an  immediate  increase  of  salary,  it  undoubtedly 
brought  me  forward.  His  work  had  to  be  distributed  among  the  others 
in  the  office,  and  a  certain  share  of  it  fell  to  me, — more  important 
work  than  I  had  done  before.  Then,  too,  it  brought  me  nearer  to  Bur- 
rill.  I  had  always  thought  it  would  be  to  my  interest  to  cultivate  the 
old  man,  and,  besides  that,  I  really  was  fond  of  him.  Up  to  that  time, 
however,  I  had  little  idea  how  much  it  might  be  worth  my  while  to  stand 
well  in  his  regard.  I  had,  indeed,  noticed  that  for  some  time  the  part 
ners  had  shown  him  unusual  deference.  I  do  not  know  that  he  was 
consulted  any  more  than  formerly,  but  it  seemed  to  be  more  openly  done. 
It  was  not  an  unusual  thing  of  late  for  Mr.  Swallow  to  come  out  and 
say,  in  his  off-hand  way,  "  Well,  Mr.  Burrill,  I've  got  a  matter  I  must 
talk  over  with  you,"  and  take  him  off  to  his  room  for  an  hour.  I 
noticed,  too,  that  he  was  sometimes  sent  to  represent  the  firm  before  a 
referee,  and  that  somehow  everybody  had  become  very  particular  about 
calling  him  "  Mr."  So  I  said,  after  a  moment's  silence, — 

"  Perhaps  we  might  find  such  a  place,  Mr.  Burrill." 

"  No,  we  can't :  there  isn't  any,"  answered  the  old  man,  petulantly 
wheeling  round  in  his  chair.  "  But  I'll  tell  you  what  we  might  do : 
we  might  take  a  lunch.  I  know  a  place.  What  do  you  say  to  next 
Saturday,  if  it  is  fair  ?  Y/e  can  take  a  holiday,  and  I  will  have  a 
hamper  packed,  It  won't  be  so  bad,  really." 

The  old  man's  face  glowed  with  anticipation. 

Of  course  I  did  not  object.  The  fates  were  kind,  and  the  weather 
was  propitious.  An  evening  ride  up  the  river,  a  night  at  a  hotel  over 
looking  its  placid  waters,  a  tramp  over  the  hills  in  the  early  morning, 
and  Ave  were  hidden  in  a  little  glen  whose  sides  were  bright  with  blossom 
ing  laurel,  while  maple  and  hemlock  almost  met  overhead,  and  a  spark 
ling  little  stream  fell  down  from  a  spring  among  the  rocks  above. 
There  was  a  narrow  open  space  between  the  laurels  and  the  alders  on 
its  banks,  where  the  sun  looked  in  and  the  grass  grew  soft  with  a  fringe 
of  tender  ferns  around  it.  Here  we  spent  our  holiday. 

The  hamper  was  opened  long  before  the  sun  reached  the  meridian, 
for  our  early  walk  had  given  us  an  appetite.     Heavens,  what  a  feast 
the  good  old  man  had  provided  !     I  knew  the  basket  was  well  stocked 
10 


110  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

but  had  no  idea  of  the  luxuries  it  contained.  I  do  not  think  I  have 
ever  tasted  a  better  meal.  We  ate  and  drank  and  were  merry.  He 
had  brought  two  small  bottles  of  wine  carefully  packed  in  a  wicker 
case,  which  he  would  trust  to  no  hand  but  his  own.  How  tenderly  he 
drew  them  out  and  placed  them  at  just  the  right  angle  in  the  sunshine! 
I  was  no  connoisseur,  having  seldom  tasted  wine ;  but  I  shall  never 
forget  the  glimmer  of  the  sunshine  through  the  purple  juice.  He  said 
it  was  a  royal  wine,  which  ought  never  to  have  been  dethroned ;  that  it 
should  be  drunk  at  just  blood-heat,  in  order  that  its  generous  warmth 
might  the  more  easily  mingle  with  the  life-tide  it  enriched.  How  care 
fully  he  turned  the  bottles,  now  and  then,  shading  them  from  the  direct 
rays  that  they  might  not  gather  too  much  of  their  force !  How  tenderly 
he  decanted  one,  reserving  the  other  until  the  hour  of  departure  !  How 
like  a  ruby's  heart  the  liquid  glowed  in  the  little  shell-like  glasses  he 
had  brought  in  a  velvet-lined  case  !  There  was  not  enough  to  drink, 
— just  a  bit  to  sip  as  we  discussed  our  dinner.  It  was  even  doubtful 
whether  eye  or  palate  felt  most  its  delight.  He  told  me  what  vintage 
it  was,  but  I  have  forgotten.  He  had  never  tasted  it  before,  he  said, 
but  had  long  promised  himself  this  indulgence.  Then  he  told  me  of 
little  jaunts  when  he  was  but  an  office-boy  and  carried  his  bread  and 
cheese  in  his  pocket ;  how  when  he  became  a  clerk  he  saved  his  pence 
all  the  year  for  a  day  or  two  in  midsummer  fields, — his  only  luxury. 
I  did  not  wonder  at  the  placid  contentment  of  his  age  as  I  listened. 
And  I  too  was  content.  This  was  not  the  country  life  I  hated. 

I  think  I  had  never  been  so  happy  before.  Everything  was  so 
quiet ;  the  sunlight  through  the  leaves  was  so  soft ;  the  laurel-blossoms 
showed  so  fair  through  the  tender  sprays  of  the  shooting  hemlocks ; 
the  birds  sang ;  the  bees  hummed,  and  the  world  was  so  far  away  ! 
Words  cannot  tell  my  supreme  content  as  I  lit  my  cigar  and  lay  back 
among  the  odorous  ferns  to  smoke  and  dream. 

"  Did  I  ever  tell  you  about  my  case  ?" 

The  voice  seemed  to  come  from  very  far  away,  but  I  roused  myself 
to  listen  and  reply.  Indeed,  it  was  no  effort  to  do  so.  It  was  only 
passing  from  one  dream  to  another. 

"  Your  case  ?     What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"Perhaps  you  did  not  know  that  I  am  an  attorney?"  The  old 
man's  face  flushed  red  as  he  spoke. 

"  No,  indeed,"  I  answered.     "  Was  it  in  the  old  country?" 

"  By  no  means,"  was  the  emphatic  reply.     "  Small  chance  for  one 


A  SHATTERED  IDOL.  Ill 

who  starts  as  an  office-boy  there,  even  if  he  knows  law  enough  for  the 
wool-sack.  True,  there  is  a  ruinor  of  one  that  rose  from  the  office-stool 
to  the  judge's  bench ;  but  that  was  a  good  while  ago,  and  lie  found  rich 
friends  to  push  him.  I  used  to  dream  of  that  sort  of  thing,  and  some 
times  hoped  for  a  little  of  it, — a  barrister's  gown,  perhaps, — but  it 
didn't  come  in  my  way.  I  suppose  I  wasn't  big  enough  to  fill  it.  I 
studied  hard,  though,  and  learned  the  law, — the  cases,  you  know, — so 
that  there  wasn't  a  barrister  in  my  knowledge  that  didn't  like  to  see 
my  hand  on  a  brief,  if  I  do  say  it.  Of  course  I  got  fair  wages  then  ; 
but  I  was  only  a  clerk,  and  could  hope  for  nothing  else.  That's  why 
I  came  to  America.  I  thought  I  could  make  a  living  in  any  country 
where  the  common  law  prevailed,  and  I  didn't  know — well,  perhaps  I 
was  foolish.  It's  hard  for  a  man  that's  been  a  clerk  till  he's  near  thirty 
to  be  anything  else  afterwards,  and  I  suppose  I  wasn't  made  for  any 
thing  better." 

The  old  man  spoke  regretfully,  and  fell  to  meditating  when  he 
ceased.  To  divert  his  attention  from  what  seemed  sorrowful  recollec 
tions,  I  asked, — 

"  You  have  been  with  Mr.  Gauge  ever  since  you  landed,  haven't 
you?" 

"  Pretty  nigh.  I  hadn't  been  here  more  than  a  fortnight  when  I 
set  in  with  him." 

"  How  did  it  happen  ?" 

"  Curiously  enough,  it  came  out  of  that  same  kind  of  cases  he  was 
telling  us  about, — what  they  called  '  rendition  cases,'  you  know, — about 
'  fugitives  from  service.'  I  didn't  know  anything  about  slavery,  nor 
care  anything  about  it  either,  as  a  fact,  at  that  time.  I  hadn't  any  sort 
of  sympathy  with  the  negro,  and  didn't  care  anything  about  the  Re 
public  then.  It  was  only  the  legal  relation  of  slavery  that  interested 
me.  I  didn't  once  suppose  that  the  law  supported  and  maintained  the 
'  peculiar  institution,'  as  it  was  called. 

"  I  had  a  notion  it  was  like  what  they  call  '  business*  on  the  ex 
changes, — stocks,  and  produce,  and  petroleum,  you  know, — which  is  no 
more  business  than  betting  at  a  faro-table.  Everybody  knows  it  to  be 
illegal,  but  it  goes  on  year  after  year,  covering  billions  of  dollars  in  the 
aggregate,  and  claiming  to  be  business  while  it  actually  is  gambling. 
The  law  doesn't  encourage  nor  protect  it,  and  won't  enforce  that  sort 
of  contracts ;  but  the  law  doesn't  stop  it,  so  that  the  best  brain  and 
nerve  of  the  country,  and  about  half  its  capital,  is  diverted  from  real 


112  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

business,  legitimate  production  and  healthful  exchange,  into  speculation, 
which  is  the  most  pernicious  form  of  gambling,  until  business  has  come 
to  he  at  a  discount,  and  our  banks  would  rather  back  a  gambler  than  a 
manufacturer. 

"  Now,  I  had  an  idea  that  this  was  something  the  way  it  was  with 
slavery, — that  the  law  winked  at  it  rather  than  approved  it.  I  don't 
know  how  I  got  this  notion,  I  am  sure.  It  was  writ  down  in  all  the 
books  plain  enough,  but  somehow  I  didn't  seem  to  sense  it.  Jt  wasn't 
the  fact,  you  see,  but  the  legality  of  it  that  hurt  me.  I  didn't  care  any 
more  about  the  '  nigger'  than  1  did  about  the  poor  in  London  ;  but  i 
could  not  realize  that  the  law  should  actually  make  and  keep  him  a 
'  nigger'  or  a  slave,  any  more  than  I  could  think  it  possible  that  the 
law  should  openly  declare  that  the  poor  should  always  remain  poor.  I 
was  awful  green,  wasn't  I  ?"  he  asked,  with  a  quiet  smile. 

I  told  him  I  did  not  at  all  wonder  at  his  feelings,  as  I  had  myself 
never  been  able  to  realize  the  fact  to  which  he  referred. 

"  I've  often  wondered,"  he  rejoined,  "  what  you  youngsters  thought 
about  the  matter.  ^  I  suppose  the  generation  that  comes  on  a  hundred 
years  from  now  will  really  know  more  about  slavery  than  you  do,  and 
probably  understand  its  tendencies  better.  Well,  I  didn't  care  any 
thing  about  the  institution  as  a  fact  of  anybody's  life  or  a  factor  of 
any  civilization  ;  but  I  took  a  fancy  to  Mr.  Gauge,  don't  you  know, 
because  I  thought  he  was  resenting  the  idea  of  the  law  being  made  the 
instrument  of  oppressing  or  degrading  anybody.  I  heard  him  in  one 
of  those  cases.  He  was  a  young  man  then,  younger  than  I,  slender, 
quiet,  and  very  particular  in  his  dress.  There  wasn't  any  dust  on  his 
broadcloth.  He  was  as  brave  as  a  lion,  though,  and  hadn't  any  hesi 
tation  about  speaking  his  opinion.  He  didn't  make  much  noise, — 
the  fellows  on  the  other  side  did  the  shouting  in  those  cases, — but  he 
never  forgot  what  the  law  ought  to  be,  in  trying  to  find  out  what  it 
was.  He  understood  its  tendencies,  as  well  as  its  decisions.  That  is 
what  makes  him  a  great  lawyer, — one  of  the  greatest  of  his  day, — though 
he  never  ^  made  a  speech  that  anybody  outside  of  the  profession  ever 
cared  to  listen  to. 

"  I  took  a  notion  to  him  from  the  start, — thought  he  was  the  very 
man  for  me  to  '  tie  to,'  as  you  youngsters  say.  And  so  he  was ;  and 
Mr.  Swallow  is  another.  One  just  supplements  the  other,  so  that  they 
make  the  perfect  firm, — the  very  ideal  of  a  legal  partnership, — though 
it  isn't  what  I  once  hoped  to  see.  I  went  to  him  and  set  in  with  him 


A  SHATTERED  IDOL.  113 

for  a  year.  He  was  cautious, — always  is,  you  know, — said  I  was  just 
the  man  he  wanted,  but  he  wasn't  able  to  pay  what  I  was  worth. 
Finally,  it  was  agreed  that  I  should  have  a  certain  share  of  what  he 
received, — that  was  after  I  had  been  with  him  a  few  months ;  and  the 
terms  were  never  changed,  until  Mr.  Swallow  came  in,  and  then  only 
to  make  it  a  little  better  for  me." 

"  Why,  Mr.  Burrill !"  I  exclaimed,  in  surprise,  "  you  don't  mean  to 
say  you  are  a  partner  ?" 

"  No,"  he  answered,  "  I  am  not :  I  am  simply  employed  for  a  share 
of  the  profits." 

"  But  you  said  you  had  been  admitted  to  the  bar." 

"  Whether  I  said  so  or  not,  I  was,  and  have  as  good  a  right  to  put 
'Attorney  and  Counsellor  at  Law  and  Solicitor  in  Chancery'  after 
my  name  as  anybody  that  sports  a  gold-lettered  sign  on  his  door  in 
Wall  Street.  You'll  find  my  name  on  the  roll,  if  you  ever  chance  to 
look,  though  it  has  never  been  printed  among  the  attorneys  in  the 
directory ,— only  '  Thomas  H.  Burrill,  Clerk/  " 

"  But  how  does  it  happen  that  nobody  knows  it  ?" 

"Well,  you  see,  Mr.  Gauge  wanted  me  to  be  admitted  and  be  his 
partner  in  fact.  So  as  soon  as  I  had  declared  my  intention  to  become 
a  citizen — filed  my  first  papers,  you  know — I  was  examined  and  ad 
mitted.  In  the  very  first  case  where  my  name  appeared,  the  counsel  on 
the  other  side  raised  the  question  of  my  admissibility.  It  was  a  new 
question  then,  and  rather  than  delay  the  case  to  fight  it  we  dissolved, 
and  I  went  back  to  my  clerkship  again.  I  was  duly  admitted,  though, 
and  of  course  after  I  was  fully  naturalized  the  objection  would  not 
lie ;  but  I  never  act  as  an  attorney  except  now  and  then  in  an  emer 
gency.  I  suppose  you  thought  I  was  tolerated  inside  the  bar  by  cour 
tesy,  and  many  of  the  profession  probably  think  so  too.  The  judges 
and  some  of  the  older  practitioners  know  better." 

"  But  you  have  never  practised, — taken  any  cases,  I  mean, — except 
for  the  firm?" 

"  Well,  no,  not  to  say  practice.  I  did  have  one  case — Mr.  Gauge 
calls  it  '  Burrill's  case'  yet — that  I  thought  a  good  deal  of.  Queer 
enough,  it  came  out  of  those  fugitive-slave  cases.  As  I  said,  I  never 
could  understand  the  legal  idea  of  slavery.  Well,  one  day  along  about 
the  close  of  the  war  a  young  fellow  came  in  and  stated  a  case  to  me 
while  I  was  alone  in  the  office,  and  I  promised  to  take  it.  When  Mr. 
Gauge  and  Mr.  Swallow  came  in  I  laid  it  before  them.  It  was  a  claim 
10* 


114  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

of  title  to  certain  real  property  in  one  of  the  Southern  States,  worth  all 
the  way  from  five  to  ten  thousand  dollars,  according  to  circumstances. 
The  claimant  wanted  Gauge  &  Swallow  to  advance  the  costs  and  prose 
cute  the  case  for  a  contingent, — a  share  in  the  recovery,  you  know. 

"  It  wasn't  a  sure  thing  by  any  means,  but  Mr.  Swallow  was  for 
taking  it  and  running  the  risk,  declaring  it  to  be  a  '  lovely  case/  I 
think  he  would  have  been  willing  to  try  it  for  nothing,  just  to  get  a 
chance  to  handle  the  questions  it  involved.  But  Mr.  Gauge  stood  off. 
I've  noticed  he  gets  more  and  more  cautious  the  older  he  grows.  He 
said  it  would  be  a  great  expense,  consume  a  deal  of  time,  and  it  was 
very  uncertain  what  would  be  the  outcome.  He  was  sorry  for  the 
claimants,  but  '  G.  &  S.'  didn't  practise  law  for  charity.  I  had  become 
interested  in  the  matter,  and,  besides  that,  I  didn't  like  the  way  he 
talked  about  it.  I  thought  he  meant  to  imply  that  I  had  no  business 
to  undertake  it.  So  I  said  that  if  they  would  let  me  use  the  firm's 
name  for  once,  I  would  do  the  work  and  advance  the  funds  myself. 

"  Oh,  you  needn't  be  surprised.  I  haven't  been  sharing  with  Mr. 
Gauge  for  thirty  years  not  to  have  a  nest-egg  of  my  own.  It  wouldn't 
have  hurt  me  to  lose  the  cost  and  travelling-expenses  a  dozen  times 
over.  They  were  willing  enough  to  do  this,  and  Mr.  Swallow  said  that 
when  I  got  it  ready  for  trial  he  would  go  down  and  argue  it  for  me." 

"  What  was  the  case  ?" 

"  It  Wasn't  ever  reported,"  said  the  old  man,  as  a  look  of  disap 
pointment  flitted  over  his  face  ;  "  it  wasn't  even  tried.  If  it  had  been, 
Mr.  Fountain,  you  wouldn't  ever  have  manifested  surprise  at  my  having 
been  admitted  to  the  bar.  If  that  case  had  been  tried  and  gone  to  the 
Supreme  Court, — as  it  was  sure  to  have  done  if  it  had  come  to  trial, — 
it's  the  simple  truth,  if  I  do  say  it,  that  it  would  have  made  my  name 
familiar  to  the  entire  bar  of  the  country.  A  lawyer  would  have  been 
ashamed  not  to  know  of  me.  Instead  of  being  a  sort  of  silent  partner 
then,  the  sign  on  our  door  would  have  read,  l  Gauge,  Swallow  &  Bur- 
rill.7  It  wasn't  to  be,  though,  and  I  suppose  it's  best.  I'd  have  been 
glad  to  see  it, — just  once  before  I  died.  It's  all  I  ever  wanted, — for 
myself,  that  is." 

"  What  was  there  remarkable  about  your  case  ?"  I  asked,  to  bring 
him  back  from  his  regretful  mood. 

"Remarkable  !  About  my  case!"  he  exclaimed,  quickly.  "Why, 
there  was  everything  remarkable  about  it.  It  contained  more  new 
questions,  and  harder  and  knottier  ones,  than  ever  came  before  a  court 


A  SHATTERED  IDOL.  115 

at  one  time  since  judges  took  to  wearing  gowns.  Why,  sir,  '  the  rule 
in  Shelley's  case7  wasn't  a  circumstance  beside  it  for  complexity,  and 
the  Dartmouth  College  case,  the  Chesapeake  Canal  case,  the  Dred  Scott 
decision,  the  Legal  Tender  cases,  and  the  Slaughter  House  cases,  all 
put  together,  did  not  present  as  many  nor  as  difficult  constitutional 
questions  as  my  case  !  Just  think  of  that,  sir !  You  ought  to  see  the 
brief  I  made  for  the  Supreme  Court :  I'll  show  it  to  you  some  time. 
I  was  sure  it  would  go  there,  you  see,  and  it  would  if  I  had  not  been  a 
fool.  Such  a  chance  comes  but  once  in  a  lifetime.  But  I  was  a  fool, 
that  is  what  I  was, — a  miserable,  weak  old  fool !" 

"  How  did  it  happen  ?     You  didn't  get  nonsuited,  did  you  ?" 

"  Nonsuited  !  Young  man,  I've  a  good  mind  to  brain  you  for  that ! 
I  believe  I  would  if  I  were  sure  you  had  brain  enough  to  feel  the  loss  ! 
Why,  youngster,  I  was  forty-odd  years  old  when  I  made  that  brief,  and 
Gauge  &  Swallow's  name  was  on  the  papers  !  And  you  talk  about 
a  non-suit !" 

"  I  am  sure  I  beg  your  pardon ;  I  was  only  in  fun,"  I  ventured  to 
say. 

"  Fun !  Mr.  Fountain,  one  would  think  you  were  from  Boston. 
That  is  exactly  the  Boston  idea  of  wit.  Just  let  me  give  you  a  state 
ment  of  the  case, — a  syllabus  of  it  as  it  ought  to  have  appeared  in  the 
Reports.  I  told  you  it  grew  out  of  slavery,  and  you  will  see  how  it 
enabled  me  to  understand  slavery  as  a  legal  fact — a  mighty  juridical 
force — as  I  never  had  before.  This  was  the  case : 

"A,  living  in  a  slave  State,  sold  B  and  her  children  (who  were  also 
his  children)  to  C,  who  brought  them  to  New  York  and  manumitted 
them  in  1857.  In  1859,  A  died,  bequeathing  realty  in  the  State  of 
his  residence  to  B  and  her  children  for  their  joint  lives,  with  remain 
der  to  successive  survivors.  The  statutes  of  the  State  forbade  the  man 
umission  of  slaves  except  by  leave  of  court,  and  the  heirs  insisted  that 
the  sale  to  C  was  without  consideration,  in  fraud  of  the  statute,  and  the 
manumission  in  New  York  void  as  against  the  heirs.  B  and  her  chil 
dren,  being  free  persons  of  color,  were  also  prohibited  from  entering  the 
State  under  penalty  of  being  sold  into  slavery,  and  consequently  could 
not  take  actual  possession — possessio  pedis,  you  know — of  the  devised 
realty.  Two  years  after — in  1861,  that  is — came  on  the  war.  In 
1863  the  State,  then  a  part  of  the  Confederacy,  sold  the  lands  for  non 
payment  of  taxes,  and  they  were  bought  by  the  heirs,  who  also  claimed 


116  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

the  specific  bequest  to  be  invalid  to  pass  title.  After  the  close  of  the 
war,  B  and  her  children  brought  suit  for  possession. 

"  That  was  my  case!"  fairly  shouted  the  old  man.  "What  do  you 
think  of  it?"  he  continued,  with  a  vehemence  that  startled  me.  "  Isn't 
it  just  bristling  with  points?  How  it  would  have  puzzled  the  big 
wigs  at  Washington!  There  it  is,  an  epitome  of  our  political  history, 
— slavery,  freedom, — war,  peace, — the  Union,  the  Confederacy, — State 
rights  and  national  supremacy, — every  possible  complexity  of  right  and 
relation  that  our  dual  civilization  and  dual  form  of  government  could 
evolve,  presented  in  one  splendid,  incomparable  case ! 

"  How  I  studied  it!  Lord  love  you,  how  I  did  study  it!  Every 
possible  question  that  could  arise  in  it  I  worked  out  and  fortified  with 
authorities.  Heavens !  what  a  sensation  Mr.  Swallow  would  have 
made  before  the  Supreme  Court  of  the  United  States  with  that  brief! 
Of  course  I  should  have  let  him  argue  it,  but  my  name  would  have 
been  on  the  brief.  l  Gauge  &  Swallow  for  the  appellant,  with  brief  by 
Mr.  Bun-ill.'  That's  the  way  it  would  have  appeared.  And  such  a 
brief!  Oh,  I  learned  all  about  slavery  as  a  legal  fact  in  preparing  that 
brief!  The  most  astonishing  legal  fact  the  world  ever  knew,  it  was, 
too.  It  destroyed  all  the  pride  I  had  in  the  common  law,  all  the  confi 
dence  I  might  ever  have  had  in  any  system  of  judicature  as  a  safeguard 
of  individual  liberty.  The  idea  is  a  delusion  and  a  snare,  a  humbug, 
Mr.  Fountain,  a  humbug  !  There  was  the  law,  the  common  law  of 
England  in  its  purity.  Never  was  it  more  subtly  and  ably  expounded 
than  by  the  judges  of  those  States.  And  there  was  slavery, — side  by 
side  with  it, — not  only  tolerated,  but  regulated,  enforced,  and  strength 
ened  by  it.  It  was  horrible  !  I  didn't  care  anything  about  the  negro ; 
but  that  the  law, — my  idol,  don't  you  see  ?  what  I  had  always  wor 
shipped  as  the  essence  of  right, — that  this  should  sustain  and  nourish 
the  wrong  !  I  didn't  mind  its  failure  to  correct  evils  ;  but  the  actual 
sustentation  of  wrong  ! — that  almost  killed  me  !  I  felt  neither  anger 
towards  the  master  nor  pity  for  the  slave.  They  were  mere  creatures 
of  the  law,  and  the  law,— which  I  had  imagined  so  divine  a  thing, — it 
was  a  mere  creature  of  popular  impulse,  collective  inclination, — the 
willing  agent  of  right  or  wrong  as  chance  might  determine ! 

"  That  is  how  I  felt  as  I  studied  my  case;  but  by  and  by  I  worked 
it  all  out,  found  the  little  thread,  the  golden  thread  that  runs  through 
all  the  law,  is  stronger  than  all  the  coarsely-knotted  ligaments  of  human 
desire,  and  runs  back  to  truth,  to  essential  truth,  absolute  truth  !  I 


A  SHATTERED  IDOL.  117 

worked  it  all  out  and  put  it  in  ray  brief.  Man  !  man !  what  a  chance 
was  lost,  not  for  me  only,  but  for  the  court,  for  the  world,  for  the  law  ! 
And  all  by  my  stupidity  !" 

The  old  man's  excited  volubility  almost  terrified  me.  I  could 
understand  something  of  his  feeling,  though.  He  had  worshipped  the 
law.  The  gown  of  the  barrister  had  seemed  to  him  the  grandest  deco 
ration  ever  worn  by  a  human  being,  unless  it  were  a  judge's  wig. 
Modest,  yet  imaginative,  he  had  longed,  but  never  hoped,  to  be  a  practi 
tioner.  Naturally,  he  had  accepted  the  self-glorification  of  the  profes 
sion  for  literal  fact.  As  his  knowledge  increased,  this  impression  had 
been  enhanced  by  constant  study  of  legal  works.  This  had  been  the 
passion  of  his  life, — to  read  the  law, — to  know  all  that  had  been  de 
cided.  Well  might  Theophilus  Gauge,  the  young  and  ambitious  lawyer, 
make  a  silent  partner  of  this  living  depository  of  legal  lore,  whose 
brain  was  an  ever-ready  digest  of  cases. 

Eealizing  more  than  ever  the  value  of  his  good  will,  I  asked,  with 
a  show  of  sympathy  which  was  not  entirely  assumed, — 

"  But  why  was  the  case  not  tried,  Mr.  Burrill  ?" 

"  Because  I  was  a  fool !"  he  answered,  angrily.  "  Served  me  right, 
too  !  I  had  no  business  to  try  to  be  anything  but  a  clerk, — a  drudge  ! 

Because But  I  will  tell  you  all  about  it.  You  see,  the  case  was 

ready  to  be  set  down  for  hearing,  the  parties  had  all  been  brought  in,  the 
pleadings  made  up,  the  depositions  taken,  and  we  were  ready  for  trial. 
So  I  went  down  to  bring  it  on  if  possible.  It  was  a  very  busy  time, 
and  I  was  to  get  a  day  set  and  then  telegraph  for  Mr.  Swallow  to  come 
on.  It  was  thought  I  would  have  no  difficulty  in  this,  considering  the 
general  willingness  of  the  profession  to  oblige  each  other.  I  felt  very 
nervous  about  it,  however,  chiefly  because  it  was  my  case,  I  suppose, 
though  it  stood  in  the  firm's  name. 

"  Well,  on  my  arrival  I  found  everything  just  the  other  way  from 
what  we  expected.  The  gentlemen  who  appeared  for  the  respondents 
were  polite  enough,  but  would  not  talk  about  the  case.  When  I  ex 
plained  to  them  my  position  with  regard  to  Mr.  Swallow,  they  merely 
said  they  couldn't  help  it.  They  would  try,  they  said,  when  they  had 
to,  and,  under  the  circumstances,  could  not  grant  any  favors  nor  make 
any  stipulations.  If  a  lot  of  ungrateful  '  niggers'  chose  to  try  and 
take  from  their  old  master's  family  all  that  the  war  had  left  them,  why, 
if  that  was  law,  they  would  have  to  submit,  but  they  would  not  favor 
any  such  attempt,  and  I,  of  course,  would  not  expect  them  to. 


118  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

"  This  was  a  new  view  of  the  matter  to  me,  who  had  thought  our 
clients'  position  a  peculiarly  meritorious  one.  It  surprised  and  almost 
shocked  me,  but  I  soon  found  that  everybody  in  that  region  had  the 
same  notion,  which,  after  all,  is  not  so  unreasonable  as  it  might  seem. 
When  I  appealed  to  the  court  I  found  the  judge  just  as  little  inclined 
to  show  favor  as  the  counsel  for  the  defence.  So  I  stayed  on,  paying 
our  witnesses  from  day  to  day.  Meantime,  it  was  intimated  to  me  by 
the  sheriff,  who  was  one  of  those  bluff  men  who  are  always  ready  to 
volunteer  advice  as  to  other  people's  affairs,  that  it  would  be  a  good 
thing  to  associate  one  of  the  resident  bar  in  the  case.  We  intended  to 
do  so,  of  course,  but  I  rather  preferred  to  have  Mr.  Swallow  make  his 
own  selection.  However,  as  I  got  tired  of  staying  and  hoped  we 
might  get  at  least  a  continuance  thereby,  I  began  to  think  of  adopting 
the  suggestion.  You  see,  I  had  given  up  all  thought  of  a  trial  at  that 
term. 

"  The  question  was  who  to  retain.  There  was  a  member  of  the 
bar  of  that  county  to  whom  I  had  brought  a  letter  of  introduction 
from  Mr.  Gauge,  who  had  been  opposed  to  him  in  one  of  those  old 
rendition  cases.  He  was  a  small,  precise  man,  with  a  long  pointed 
beard  just  beginning  to  be  streaked  with  gray,  who  wore  white  clothes, 
— for  it  wras  summer  weather  there,  though  a  chilly  spring-time  here, — 
a  green-underlined  Panama  hat,  and  black-knitted  gloves, — or  *  mitts/ 
I  think  they  are  called, — which  did  not  quite  reach  the  ends  of  the 
fingers.  He  received  me  politely  enough,  but  was,  I  thought,  con 
strained  almost  to  coldness.  This,  indeed,  was  the  demeanor  of  the 
entire  bar  towards  me.  I  had  heard  so  much  of  their  hospitality  that 
I  was  surprised  at  this,  until  I  learned  the  feeling  entertained  for  the 
business  on  which  I  came.  Mr.  Gauge  had  advised  me  to  offer  this 
Colonel  Bagster  a  retainer  as  soon  as  I  arrived ;  but,  as  it  was  my  case 
and  there  seemed  to  be  no  hurry  about  the  matter,  I  determined  to  bide 
my  time  and  see  whom  I  might  prefer.  As  the  days  wore  on,  I  noticed 
that  Colonel  Bagster,  though  evidently  very  highly  esteemed  by  his 
brethren  at  the  bar,  did  not  seem  to  be  overburdened  with  business,  nor 
was  he  especially  successful  in  what  he  had.  Naturally,  this  fact  did 
not  incline  me  towards  him,  and  I  had  about  made  up  my  mind  to 
retain  another,  the  real  leader  of  the  bar,  one  Mr.  Faison,  a  man  of 
most  admirable  qualities,  when  one  morning  I  was  astonished  to  hear 
him  address  the  court  as  follows  : 

" '  If  your  Honor  please,  the  case  of  Holt  et  al.  vs.  Bagster  is  a  suit 


A  SHATTERED  IDOL.  119 

in  equity,  set  down  for  hearing  at  this  term.  The  action  was  brought 
against  my  brother -Bagster  at  his  own  request.  The  petitioners,  for 
whom  I  appear,  are  certain  freed  men,  late  the  property  of  Israel  Holt, 
deceased,  formerly  a  well-known  citizen  of  this  county.  They  allege  a 
secret  trust  for  their  benefit  between  the  said  Holt  and  my  brother 
Bagster,  who  was  his  residuary  legatee.  The  averment  is  that  in  1863 
the  said  Holt,  desiring  to  manumit  and  provide  for  the  petitioners,  and 
being  unable  to  do  so  because  of  the  war  between  the  States  then  pend 
ing,  bequeathed  the  petitioners  to  my  brother  Bagster,  and  made  him 
also  his  residuary  legatee,  upon  a  secret  trust  and  understanding  that 
the  residuum,  amounting  to  several  thousand  dollars,  should  be  applied 
to  the  liberation  and  maintenance  of  said  petitioners,  who  therefore  de 
mand  a  declaration  of  the  trust,  and  an  accounting  of  the  fund  received 
under  it. 

"  '  The  answer  of  my  brother  Bagster  admits  these  allegations.  In 
deed,  it  was  upon  his  voluntary  disclosure  that  the  same  were  made. 
He  admits,  also,  the  receipt  of  the  fund,  its  investment  in  Confederate 
securities,  and  its  consequent  entire  loss  on  the  downfall  of  that  govern 
ment.  Certain  questions  will  be  raised,  not  by  Colonel  Bagster,  but 
by  counsel  for  the  heirs  of  Holt,  who  have  been  made  parties,  as  to  the 
competency  of  the  cestuis  que  trust.  In  case  the  court  should  sustain 
the  petition,  Colonel  Bagster,  it  is  understood,  will  offer  propositions 
of  settlement  which  will  need  to  be  approved  by  the  court.  The  only 
doubt  that  can  arise  in  regard  to  them,  I  imagine,  will  be  that  they  are 
so  liberal  as  to  seem  a  positive  wrong  to  Colonel  Bagster  and  his  family. 
Indeed,  I  desire  to  say  that  while  I  shall  do  my  duty  as  the  represen 
tative  of  the  petitioners,  whose  ignorance  makes  them  especially  lit  sub 
jects  for  the  protection  of  a  court  of  equity,  I  do  it  solely  at  the  instance 
of  Colonel  Bagster,  whose  course  in  the  matter  seems  to  me  to  be  inspired 
by  an  overstrained  sense  of  honor,  which,  though  I  cannot  but  admire, 
I  most  heartily  regret/ 

"  There  was  a  dead  silence  in  the  court.  All  eyes  were  turned  upon 
the  little  man  with  the  gray  beard,  who  sat  bolt  upright  in  front  of  the 
judge,  the  ends  of  his  white  fingers  showing  through  the  black  gloves 
as  his  hands  lay  crossed  on  the  end  of  a  file  of  papers  resting  on  his 
knee.  The  fine  line  of  his  lip,  showing  under  his  moustache,  was  a 
little  drawn,  but  there  was  no  other  evidence  that  he  was  at  all  con 
scious  of  the  curious,  admiring,  and  pitiful  glances  that  were  turned 
upon  him  from  all  sides. 


120  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

" '  It  has  been  deemed  best/  continued  Mr.  Faison,  '  to  ask  the 
court  to  send  the  case  to  a  master,  to  report  both»upon  the  questions 
arrsiug  and  the  compromise  offered  by  Colonel  Bagster ;  and  the  coun 
sel  for  the  parties  have  agreed,  on  account  of  the  peculiar  charac 
ter  of  this  case,  if  it  should  be  agreeable  to  the  court  and  to  him,  to 
ask  your  Honor  to  name  as  such  referee  Mr.  Thomas  H.  Burrill,  of 
New  York,  who  is  in  attendance  upon  our  court,  and,  because  of  his 
entire  freedom  from  bias,  better  fitted,  perhaps,  to  define  the  equities  of 
such  a  case  than  those  reared  under  influences  that  might  seem  detri 
mental  to  the  petitioners/ 

" ' I  wish  to  say/  he  continued,  with  a  gesture  intended  to  forestall 
my  declination,  <  that  this  is  the  especial  wish  of  Colonel  Bagster,  as  he 
desires  the  record  to  show  beyond  all  possible  cavil  the  perfect  bona 
fides  which  we  who  are  honored  by  his  acquaintance  would  expect  to 
characterize  any  act  of  his.' 

"  There  were  evidences  of  approval  amounting  almost  to  applause 
as  Mr.  Faison  sat  down.  I  was  never  so  surprised  in  iny  life.  When 
I  rose  to  decline  there  was  a  universal  murmur  of  dissent,  and  both  the 
judge  and  the  counsel  for  the  heirs  urged  me  to  accept. 

"  Of  course,  under  these  circumstances  it  would  have  been  simple 
boorishness  to  persist  in  my  declination.  I  heard  the  case.  My  report 
is  on  file  in  the  court  now,  signed  i  Burrill,  Master/  The  decree  sub 
mitted  by  the  referee  was  signed  by  the  judge  without  alteration  or 
amendment. 

"  What  did  I  decide  ?  What  could  one  decide  ?  Bagster  was  a 
fool  ?  there  is  no  doubt  about  that ;  but  a  man  has  an  inalienable  right 
to  be  a  fool  if  he  chooses.  He  believed  in  the  Confederacy,  first,  last, 
and  all  the  time ;  believes  in  it  now,  I  think.  He  '  sold  all  that  he  had/ 
and  followed  it,  too,  like  a  true  believer.  Land  and  slaves  he  converted 
into  Confederate  bonds,  not  only  as  a  matter  of  patriotic  duty,  but  be 
cause  he  believed  them  to  be  good.  As  a  result,  the  surrender  left  him 
a  useless  sword,  a  tattered  uniform,  a  few  law-books,  and  a  house  and 
lot  in  the  village,  in  which  his  wife  held  a  right  of  dower.  In  the  face 
of  these  things,  with  a  wife  and  three  or  four  children  to  support,  what 
do  you  suppose  this  man  proposed  to  do, — nay,  had  already  done,  and 
only  waited  for  the  court  to  say  it  was  enough  for  him  to  do  ?  First,  he 
acknowledged  the  secret  trust.  Nobody  had  suspected  it.  As  a  friend 
of  Holt's,  and  his  legal  adviser,  it  was  thought  very  natural  that  the 
decedent  should  leave  him  a  bequest.  He  then  insisted  on  being  hejd 


A  SHATTERED  IDOL.  121 

responsible  for  the  loss  of  the  fund,  and  offered  in  discharge  of  this 
self-imposed  liability — what  do  you  suppose?  The  very  house  in 
which  he  lived, — practically  all  that  he  had, — free  of  his  wife's  dower, 
too,  which  she  had  voluntarily  relinquished  ! 

"  Nothing  ever  took  away  my  breath  like  that !  Of  course  I  de 
cided  the  points  of  law  as  he  wished  them.  In  fact,  he  was  right, — 
legally  right,  that  is, — everybody  felt  that  instinctively.  So  the 
transfer  was  made,  and  the  man  stripped  himself  of  everything  to 
perform  his  obligation  to  his  dead  friend, — even  becoming  a  tenant  at 
will  in  his  own  house.  It  was  wonderful !  I  said  something  of  the 
kind  to  him  after  it  was  over. 

"  '  Well,  you  see/  he  answered,  '  Holt  was  very  anxious  about  the 
children.  He  had  some  scruples,  perhaps,  about  their  being  held  as 
slaves  by  others, — they  were  his  own,  you  know, — and  I  agreed  to  do  for 
them  just  as  I  thought  he  would  if  he  had  lived.  It's  been  on  my 
conscience  ever  since  I  knew  the  fund  was  irretrievably  lost.  Now  I 
have  done  what  I  could.  I  don't  think  he  would  expect  me  to  do 
more,  and  I  could  not  in  honor  do  less.7 

" '  But  your  family?'  I  suggested. 

"  '  They  believe  in  me,'  he  said,  with  a  smile.  '  I  can  go  to  work 
now.' 

"  Did  you  ever  hear  anything  like  it  ?" 

"  But  what  had  that  to  do  with  your  case?" 

"My  case!  Well,  you  see,  that  was  continued  the  very  day  my 
report  was  filed.  I  started  home  the  day  after,  leaving  authority  for 
Bagster  to  act  for  us,  and.  enclosing  a  check  for  five  hundred  dollars," 
said  the  old  man,  shamefacedly. 

"  I  am  sure  that  was  handsome,"  I  exclaimed,  as  heartily  as  I  could, 
owing  to  a  huskiness  in  my  throat.  The  fact  is,  I  was  so  proud  of  the 
old  man  that  my  eyes  were  filled  with  tears. 

"  It  wasn't  business,"  answered  Burrill,  meekly.  "  Mr.  Gauge 
would  never  have  slopped  over  in  that  way." 

"  I  hope  you  never  regretted  it,"  I  said. 

"  Oh,  no  ;  not  so  far  as  the  money  was  concerned  :  the  man  deserved 
that.  He  acknowledged  it  like  a  gentleman,  too,  not  like  a  beggar. 
Man,  what  a  letter  it  was  he  wrote  me  ! — 

«<Sra,— 

"  ' 1  have  to  acknowledge  your  letter  with  power  of  attorney  to  act 
11  F 


122  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

in  Rayle  vs.  Southard  according  to  discretion  ;  also  the  very  liberal  draft 
you  enclosed.     I  hope  I  may  be  able  to  justify  your  confidence. 

"  <  Sincerely  yours, 

" '  JOSEPH  BAGSTER.' 

"That  was  all ;  not  another  word.  Just  as  if  five-hundred-dollar 
drafts  were  as  common  with  him  as  corn-bread  for  breakfast !  "Well,  I 
liked  him  all  the  better  for  it,  though  I  never  could  have  done  it  in  his 
place.  He  set  to  work  to  earn  his  fee  without  loss  of  time,  too  ;  but  it 
was  a  most  unfortunate  investment  for  me/'  Mr.  Burrill  added,  with  a 
sighj — "  most  unfortunate  !" 

"How  so?" 

"  How  so  ?  Why,  the  next  I  heard  from  him — it  was  less  than  a 
month  afterwards — he  wrote  that,  owing  to  the  good  impression  I  had 
made  on  the  people  of  that  region,  he  had  been  able  to  compromise  my 
case!  Think  of  it!  Compromise  a  case  like  that!  Did  you  ever 
hear  of  such  an  outrage  ?" 

"  I  should  think  that  would  depend  on  the  terms,"  I  ventured  to 
reply. 

"  Terms  !  Oh,  they  were  good  enough.  He  got  three  thousand 
five  hundred  dollars  and  costs,  which  was  no  doubt  a  good  deal  more 
than  our  clients  would  have  realized  under  execution.  Besides  that,  he 
wrote  that  he  had  taken  as  part  of  the  compromise  an  assignment  of 
a  claim  which  he  thought  would  prove  valuable.  He  suggested  that, 
as  our  clients  would  probably  prefer  cash,  we  might  take  this  as  part 
of  our  fee  and  allow  him  to  bring  suit  for  it,  without  charge,  in  special 
acknowledgment  of  my  liberality  to  him." 

"  And  did  it  prove  valuable  ?"  I  asked. 

"  Yes,  it  promises  to.  That  assignment,  you  see,  is  the  basis  of  the 
case  Burrill  et  al.  vs.  The  Railroad  Co.  Yes,  it  bids  fair  to  yield  money 
enough ;  but  I  would  gladly  have  lost  the  whole  recovery  to  have  had 
my  case  tried." 


vr. 

A  BILL   OF  DISCOVERY. 

"  ~\TOU  haven't  found  it?" 

JL  It  was  Mr.  Swallow  who  asked  the  question  as  lie  ap- 
proached  a  long  table  which  stood  at  one  end  of  the  main  office.  At 
this  table  sat  three  clerks  with  their  coats  off.  Two  of  them  wore 
paper  caps.  At  one  end  stood  a  bright-eyed,  slender  girl,  wearing  a 
brown  duster  with  long  sleeves  fitting  snugly  at  the  wrists,  which  but 
toned  down  in  front  and  was  belted  at  the  waist.  She  held  a  dust- 
brush  which  she  wielded  as  a  sceptre.  Books  and  papers  were  heaped 
before  her,  while  a  pencil  stuck  coquettishly  among  the  dark  clustering 
curls  on  which  was  jauntily  perched  a  paper  cap  of  the  same  pattern  as 
those  worn  by  Mr.  Bronson  and  myself.  Mr.  Burrill  sat  opposite  the 
smiling  mistress  of  ceremonies,  a  picture  of  busy  contentment.  Before 
us  were  files  of  papers  which  we  opened  and  examined  one  by  one. 
The  office-boy  went  back  and  forth  with  his  arms  full  of  these,  while 
a  couple  of  clerks  were  busy  at  the  other  end  of  the  room  taking  them 
from  the  cases,  dusting  the  pigeon-holes,  and  replacing  them. 

Miss  AVinters  was  our  new  stenographer,  who  ran  the  type-writer 
and  took  the  bread  out  of  the  mouths  of  three  or  four  able-bodied 
clerks  for  a  stipend  shockingly  insignificant  in  comparison  even  with  the 
moderate  salary  of  an  embryo  lawyer.  The  "  type-writer  girl"  was  a 
new  institution  then.  The  time  had  not  yet  come  when  one  desiring 
such  a  position  found  youth  and  beauty  a  disadvantage,  and  ours  could 
never  have  advertised  among  her  qualifications  "  middle-aged  and 
plain."  The  room  was  full  of  dust,  and  had  been  full  of  laughter  until 
Mr.  Swallow  made  his  appearance. 

"  Haven't  found  it,  I  suppose  ?"  repeated  the  great  advocate  still 
more  irritably  as  he  drew  near  the  table. 

"  Not  yet,"  answered  Burrill,  shaking  his  head  deprecatingly. 

The  room  was  still  enough  now.     The  rustle  of  the  papers  as  we 

123 


124  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

slipped  them  rapidly  from  hand  to  hand,  and  the  sharp  tapping  with 
which  Miss  Winters  evened  the  ends  upon  the  table  preparatory  to 
tying  them  up,  were  the  only  sounds  to  be  heard. 

"  You're  not  likely  to,  as  long  as  you  wear  those  fools'  caps/'  the 
Junior  snarled,  with  a  glance  at  our  head-gear.  I  started  to  take  mine 
off,  but  Bronson,  who  sat  opposite  me,  drew  down  his  brows  and  seemed 
about  to  make  an  angry  reply. 

"  There  is  so  much  dust,"  said  Mr.  Burrill,  who  was  always  the 
washer  when  any  part  of  the  office  developed  a  tendency  to  friction. 
He  turned  away  his  head  and  coughed,  as  if  to  testify  to  the  effect  of 
the  annoying  particles.  Miss  Winters  was  at  that  moment  brushing 
off  some  bundles  the  boy  had  brought. 

"  I  don't  see  the  use  of  such  an  infernal  dust,  and  won't  have  this 
masquerading,"  said  Mr.  Swallow,  savagely.  "  This  isn't  a  picnic." 

"  You  wouldn't  have  us  handle  these  old  papers  without  dusting 
them,  or  clean  house  without  being  dressed  for  it,  would  you  ?"  asked 
Miss  Winters,  smilingly. 

"  Miss  Winters,"  said  the  Junior,  sternly,  "  you  were  employed  to 
write  my  letters  and  copy  papers,  not  to  get  yourself  up  like  a  washer 
woman  for  the  entertainment  of  the  office." 

"  But  I  had  nothing  to  do,"  protested  the  girl,  dropping  the  brush 
and  snatching  off  her  cap. 

"  I  could  have  found  something  better  for  you  to  do  than  flirting 
with  my  clerks,"  said  Mr.  Swallow.  He  sometimes  forgot  the  firm 
when  angry  and  used  the  singular  number  and  the  possessive  case  with 
considerable  emphasis. 

"  Why,  Mr.  Swallow  !"  The  girl's  great  black  eyes  were  turned  on 
him  with  a  look  of  horror. 

"It  was  my  fault,  sir,"  interposed  Mr.  Burrill,  apologetically. 
"You  know  we  were  short-handed,  and — and — a  woman  is  so  deft 
about  such  things,  and  I  thought " 

"  You  are  old  enough  to  have  more  sense,  Burrill,"  snapped  the 
Junior. — "  Miss  Winters,  go  to  your  desk.  When  I  want  you  to  run 
the  office  I'll  let  you  know.  In  the  mean  time  you  had  better  be  look 
ing  out  for  another  place." 

The  girl  pressed  her  handkerchief  to  her  face,  still  holding  the 
crushed  paper  cap  in  one  hand.  Sobbing  and  trembling,  she  rushed 
across  the  office  into  Mr.  Swallow's  room. 

"  If  you  please,  sir "  said  Burrill,  rising  to  his  feet. 


A  BILL   OF  DISCOVERY.  125 

"Don't  talk  to  me,"  exclaimed  the  irate  lawyer.  "I  want  that 
paper." 

"  You  are  taking  a  queer  way  to  get  it,"  said  an  unfamiliar  voice 
behind  me. 

I  looked  around,  and  saw  that  a  quiet,  brown-bearded  fellow  who 
had  been  about  the  office  a  good  deal  of  late  had  entered  from  Mr. 
Gauge's  room.  The  senior  partner  stood  near  him,  his  face  wearing  a 
decidedly  troubled  look. 

"  Do  you  think  you  are  going  to  run  this  office,  sir  ?"  asked  the 
Junior,  hotly. 

"  I  think,"  was  the  cool  reply,  "  that  I  have  as  much  interest  as  any 
one  in  the  document  Gauge  &  Swallow  have  lost.  I  have  watched  the 
search  for  the  last  two  days,  and  that  girl  has  been  worth  more  than 
any  two  men  engaged  in  it." 

There  was  a  general  murmur  of  approval. 

"  It  was  her  common  sense  that  suggested  a  method  that  certainly 
promised  success, — if  the  paper  is  still  in  the  office."  He  added  the 
last  with  a  touch  of  doubt  that  was  almost  an  imputation. 

"  Of  course  it's  here,"  asserted  Mr.  Swallow. 

"There  is  just  one  way  of  proving  that,"  said  the  stranger,  with  a 
shrug,  as  he  sauntered  back  into  Mr.  Gauge's  room.  "  You  know  what 
a  failure  to  find  it  before  Monday  means,"  he  added,  as  he  turned  in  the 
door-way. 

It  was  Friday,  and  this  man  was  the  special  counsel  of  Dole's 
Heirs,  whose  claim  for  a  million  or  more  hung  on  the  paper  we  were 
searching  for. 

"  Come,  Swallow,"  said  Mr.  Gauge,  approaching  the  Junior  and 
putting  his  hand  soothingly  upon  his  shoulder.  "  You  are  worried 
almost  to  death,  I  know.  So  are  we  all.  I  don't  wonder  it  annoyed 
you  to  see  the  girl  making  things  so  lively.  I  was  afraid  there'd  be 
trouble  when  you  hired  her.  A  law-office  isn't  the  place  for  a  girl, 
anyhow;  but  her  bright  ways  haven't  hindered  the  search,  and  her 
faculty  of  putting  things  in  order  has  helped  a  good  deal." 

"  That's  so,"  assented  Burrill. 

"  Wouldn't  have  got  through  one  of  the  cases  if  it  hadn't  been  for 
her,"  grumbled  the  office-boy,  who  was  hanging  on  the  back  of  a  re 
volving-chair,  chewing  gum  and  scowling  fiercely. 

"'I  know  it,  Gauge,"  said  Mr.  Swallow,  turning  to  his  partner; 
11* 


126  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

'but  I'm  so  troubled   about  that   paper.       I  believe  I'm  half-crazy. 
If  it's  not  found  I  can  never  hold  up  my  head  at  the  bar  again." 

"  No,"  said  Mr.  Gauge,  absently. 

"  Nor  you  either,"  flashed  back  his  partner.  "  It's  as  likely  to  have 
been  your  fault  as  mine." 

"  Don't  talk  about  whose  fault  it  is,"  answered  Mr.  Gauge,  gravely. 
"  If  it  isn't  found,  neither  of  us  will  ever  sign  a  brief  again." 

The  two  men  stood  looking  into  each  other's  eyes,  seemingly  twenty 
years  older  than  they  had  been  three  days  before.  It  was  a  serious 
moment  for  Gauge  &  Swallow.  One  of  the  most  important  papers  ever 
placed  in  the  possession  of  a  legal  firm  was  lost.  It  was  apparently  only 
an  insignificant  scrap, — a  paper  executed  at  a  mining-camp  in  a  gorge  of 
the  Rocky  Mountains  a  dozen  years  before.  It  seemed  hardly  worth 
preserving  then,  being  a  mere  agreement  to  share  what  did  not  exist, — 
a  grub-staking  contract  between  three  men, — but  now  its  possession 
meant  millions.  A  copy  was  not  enough.  One  of  the  parties  was 
dead,  and  the  struggle  was  between  the  survivors.  Practically,  the 
whole  world  had  been  ransacked  for  evidence  in  the  case.  I  said  the 
third  party  was  dead :  he  was  at  least  missing.  The  paper  had  been 
executed  in  triplicate,  each  party  keeping  a  copy.  One  of  the  men  had 
disappeared.  No  trace  of  him  could  be  found  after  a  few  months  sub 
sequent  to  the  date  of  the  contract.  Another  was  the  father  of  the 
claimant ;  while  the  defendants  claimed  title  through  the  third.  There 
was  a  suspicion  that  the  grub-staker  had  put  the  third  partner  out  of 
the  way ;  but  of  this  no  proof  could  be  adduced.  Only  the  original 
contract  could  sustain  the  claim  of  the  parties  Gauge  &  Swallow  repre 
sented.  The  case  was  set  down  for  trial  on  Monday.  It  had  been 
staved  off  for  a  week  on  some  pretext  or  other,  that  an  exhaustive 
search  for  the  missing  document  might  be  made. 

Papers  are  seldom  lost  in  an  office  like  ours.^  The  Chinese  rever 
ence  for  a  paper-writing  is  carried  to  its  extreme  limit  by  the  legal  prac 
titioner.  One  of  Gauge  &  Swallow's  clerks  would  no  more  think  of 
destroying  a  scrap  of  paper  with  a  name,  date,  or  anything  else  scrib 
bled  on  it  than  of  cutting  off  his  ears,  unless  he  knew  positively  that 
it  was  of  no  value.  Of  course,  even  with  all  possible  precaution,  valuable 
papers  do  sometimes  get  mislaid ;  and  when  a  paper  is  actually  lost  in 
a  lawyer's  office,  search  for  it  is  wellnigh  hopeless.  In  nine  cases  out 
of  ten  it  has  been  slipped  inside  the  wrong  wrapper,  folded  into  some 
paper  to  which  it  is  not  at  all  related,  or  hidden  in  some  file  just  as  iar 


A  BILL   OF  DISCOVERY.  127 

away  from  where  it  belongs  as  the  limit  of  the  cases  will  allow.  It  is 
possible  it  may  have  been  shut  up  in  a  book,  dropped  through  the  bot 
tom  of  a  drawer,  or  fallen  down  the  back  of  a  case.  Papers,  especially 
valuable  ones,  are  adepts  in  the  art  of  self-seclusion,  and  many  a  lawyer 
attributes,  not  without  reason,  the  bald  spot  upon  his  cranium  or  the 
gray  hairs  that  crown  his  brow  to  the  inexpressible  agony  of  a  long  and 
anxious  search  for  the  hidden  treasures  of  a  client,  who  peacefully  slum 
bers  meanwhile,  unmindful  of  the  perils  that  threaten  his  muniments. 
Modern  mechanical  aids,  such  as  files  and  indexes,  do  very  much  to 
reduce  the  risk  of  loss,  though  when  a  mistake  is  made  with  one  of 
them  it  seems  even  more  hopeless  to  attempt  its  discovery.  A  man 
who  seeks  for  a  misplaced  letter  in  an  indexed  file  is  almost  certain  to 
anathematize  the  ingenuity  that  devised  it. 

In  such  cases  the  only  thing  to  be  done,  if  the  paper  is  of  value 
enough  to  justify  it,  is  to  lock  the  doors,  like  a  merchant  taking  account 
of  stock,  and  turn  everything  within  the  four  Avails  inside  out  until  the 
lost  document  is  found.  Such  occasions  are  very  much  what  house- 
cleaning  is  to  the  tidy  home-keeper,  except  that  dust  is  even  more  uni 
versal  and  ill-temper  more  abundant. 

Such  a  time  we  were  having  at  Gauge  &  Swallow's.  Our  em 
ployers,  though  very  good  men,  were  human,  and  consequently  en 
dowed  with  nerves.  This  was  especially  true  of  Mr.  Swallow.  Usu 
ally  the  best-natured  of  men,  he  was  on  such  occasions  an  unmitigated 
terror.  Seemingly  a  very  careless  man,  he  rarely  lost  a  paper.  His 
desk  might  be  covered  a  foot  deep  with  unassorted  and  unrelated  man 
uscripts,  but  somehow  he  could  always  find  what  he  wanted.  He  pos 
sessed  a  singular  kind  of  memory, — wonderfully  strong  in  some  di 
rections  and  equally  deficient  in  others.  He  never  quoted,  could  not 
recite  a  solitary  stanza  of  poetry,  and  was  accustomed  to  say  ^that  he 
could  not  remember  the  Lord's  Prayer, — an  assertion  one  was  inclined 
at  times  to  credit.  On  the  other  hand,  he  knew  every  paper  he  had 
ever  handled,  and  could  pick  it  out  from  a  heap  of  similarly-folded 
ones  without  reading  the  endorsement,  recalling  at  once  the  handwriting, 
blots,  scratches,  and  other  distinguishing  marks  upon  it. 

Mr.  Gauge,  however,  though  the  most  orderly  man  in  the  world, 
knew  a  paper  only  by  its  contents,  had  a  poor  memory  for  faces,  never 
knew  where  he  last  saw  a  thing  or  when  or  for  what  purpose  he  had 
last  used  it.  He  put  things  in  their  places, — or  thought  he  did, — and 
the  consequence  was  that  when  he  failed  to  do  so  he  could  give  no  clue 


128  WITH  GAUGE  <fc  SWALLOW. 

to  their  location.  It  was  almost  always  his  papers  that  were  lost,  but, 
as  he  always  believed,  through  the  carelessness  of  others,— usually  his 
partner,  whom  he  never  failed  to  accuse  of  having  lost  them  in  the  pile 
of  rubbish  on  his  desk.  At  such  times  the  mutual  recriminations  be 
tween  the  partners  would  have  been  enjoyable  enough  to  the  clerks,  had 
it  not  been  for  the  fact  that  they  were  in  constant  fear  they  might  tire 
of  accusing  each  other  and  both  turn  on  their  subordinates. 

Miss  Winters  had  been  in  the  office  but  a  few  months.  Mr.  Gauge 
had  opposed  her  employment:  women  were  just  beginning  to  hold  such 
positions  then,  and  were  not  looked  on  with  favor.  Her  skill  and  ac 
curacy,  as  well  as  her  beauty  and  lady-like  demeanor,  had  appealed  to 
Mr.  Swallow  so  strongly,  however,  that  he  had  overborne  his  partner's 
objection.  Until  the  loss  of  this  paper  the  clerks  in  the  office  had  seen 
very  little  of  her.  The  partners  had  kept  her  busy.  Up  to  this  time 
they  had  adhered  to  the  old  fashion  of  writing  many  important  letters 
themselves.  With  her  advent  all  this  was  changed.  They  suddenly 
found  the  type-writer  exactly  the  thing  for  their  correspondence,  though 
it  was  as  yet  only  occasionally  employed  in  the  more  formal  business 
of  the  office.  Whenever  the  door  of  Mr.  Swallow's  room  was  open, 
we  either  heard  the  drone  of  dictation  or  the  click  of  the  machine ;  and 
whenever  we  had  occasion  to  go  there — and  we  went  there  as  often 
as  we^could  devise  excuse  for  doing  so— we  were  sure  to  see  her  sitting 
opposite  one  ^  of  the  partners,  with  her  book  upon  her  lap,  her  sharp- 
pointed  pencil  jotting  down  their  words  in  queer  hieroglyphs,  or  else 
we  heard  the  click  of  the  keys  from  behind  the  screen  by  which  her 
desk  was  shielded  from  observation. 

Everybody  was  irritated  by  Mr.  Swallow's  attack  on  the  young  lady. 
Bronson  always  resented  any  reflection  on  what  was  done  in  the  office, 
for  all  the  work  of  which  he  held  himself  responsible.  As  soon  as  he 
had  finished  the  file  on  which  he  was  engaged,  therefore,  he  shoved 
back  his  chair  and  left  the  room.  I  knew  from  his  look  there  was 
going  to  be  trouble.  When  he  returned,  he  had  washed,  donned  his 
coat,  and  had  his  hat  in  his  hand. 

"  Going  out,  Bronson  ?"  asked  Mr.  Swallow,  as  the  chief  clerk 
passed  him  on  his  way  to  the  door. 

'  Yes,  sir,  and  shall  not  return  until  morning,"  was  the  positive 
answer. 

"  You^know  how  anxious  we  are  about  this  paper,"  suggested  Mr. 
Swallow,  in  a  tone  that  showed  a  desire  to  avoid  difference. 


A  SILL   OF  DISCOVERY.  129 

"  I  have  already  been  up  nearly  all  of  two  nights,"  retorted  Bron- 
son,  "  and,  as  you  do  not  seem  satisfied  with  what  has  been  done,  I  am 
going  home  to  get  a  little  sleep.  You  had  better  get  a  '  mind-reader7 
or  something  of  that  sort  to  find  the  paper  for  you.  We  can't  see 
through  the  files, — can  only  use  common  sense  and  system, — and  that 
takes  time.  You  had  better  stop  us  and  put  a  mesmerist  on  the  job." 

This  was  a  hit  at  Mr.  Swallow,  who  was  always  talking  about  mes 
merism  and  the  relations  of  mind  to  matter  as  if  he  really  thought  man 
kind  had  some  sort  of  sixth  sense  which  acted  without  relation  to  time 
or  space  and  was  unaffected  by  sensible  obstacles.  I  do  not  suppose  he 
believed  a  word  of  what  he  said,  but  he  was  fond  of  talking  about  such 
things  in  the  hours  of  pleasant  relaxation  following  a  hard-won  triumph 
in  court,  and  was  accustomed  to  attribute  much  of  his  success  to  a  sort 
of  instinctive  power  to  read  the  mind  of  an  adversary  or  a  witness. 
Indeed,  there  were  cases  in  which  it  seemed  as  if  this  faculty  of  his 
actually  bordered  on  the  occult.  Bronson's  parting  shot  woke  a  smile 
on  the  dolorous  visage  of  Mr.  Gauge,  who  could  not  resist  an  opportu 
nity  to  touch  his  partner's  well-known  weakness. 

"  That's  an  idea,  now,"  he  said,  briskly,  as  Bronson  clattered  down 
the  stairs.  "  Why  not  employ  a  mesmerist  or  the  seventh  son  of  a 
seventh  son  to  tell  us  where  it  is  ?" 

"It  wouldn't  do,"  said  Mr.  Swallow,  quickly.  "You  see,  he 
would  have  to  trace  it  by  the  impression  on  your  mind ;  and  a  paper 
never  leaves  impression  enough  on  your  memory  for  anybody  to  find  a 
trace  of  it  an  hour  afterwards, — let  alone  a  year." 

Both  laughed, — each  at  his  own  jest,  no  doubt.  No  matter ;  the 
laughter  put  us  all  once  more  at  ease. 

"  I  don't  know  as  I  blame  Bronson  for  being  mad,"  said  Mr. 
Swallow,  "  but  this  thing  must  be  pushed.  I'll  tell  you  what,  I'll 
apologize  to  Miss  Winters,  and  then  we'll  all  go  at  it  and  examine 
every  scrap  of  paper  in  the  office.  I'll  work  to-night ;  you  can  take 
a  turn  to-morrow  night ;  we'll  have  lunches  sent  in,  and  offer  a  hun 
dred  dollars  to  the  one  who  finds  the  paper,  and  five  hundred  more  to 
the  office  when  it  is  found.  How  will  that  do,  gentlemen  ?" 

"  Me  too  ?"  asked  Tommy. 

"  Yes,  you  too,  you  little  rascal,  if  you  will  give  that  chair  a  rest 
and  go  to  work." 

Some  of  the  other  clerks  had  come  in,  and  the  proposal  was  greeted 
with  noisy  approval  as  they  took  part  again  in  the  search. 

F* 


130  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

"  Mr.  Swallow." 

Everybody  started.  There,  just  behind  the  partners,  was  Miss 
Winters.  She  had  removed  the  duster  she  had  worn  while  engaged  in 
the  search,  and  her  mourning  gown,  with  its  bit  of  lace  at  the  throat, 
gave  her  pale  face  a  very  pathetic  look.  She  had  lost  her  mother  since 
she  had  been  in  the  office,  and  we  all  felt  a  good  deal  of  sympathy  for 
her.  Besides,  I  may  as  well  confess  that  we  were  very  proud  of  our 
"  pretty  shop-mate/7  as  we  called  her.  Thus  far,  the  office-boy,  Tom, 
was  the  only  one  who  could  boast  of  any  show  of  partiality  on  her  part. 
She  had  managed  to  transform  the  lad  into  an  endurable  presence,  and 
in  return  he  had  become  her  especial  champion. 

"Mr.  Swallow,"  she  repeated,  eagerly.  Then,  seeing  we  were  all 
looking  at  her,  she  faltered  and  cast  down  her  eyes. 

"  Miss  Winters/7  said  the  Junior,  turning  towards  her  with  that 
winning  courtesy  which  made  every  one  forget  that  he  had  any  less 
pleasing  qualities,  "I  beg  your  pardon  for  my  rudeness.  My  anxiety 
has  made  me  little  less  than  a  brute,  or  I  should  have  seen  that  instead 
of  blame  you  deserved  commendation." 

"I  was  anxious  too,"  she  said, — "almost  as  anxious  as  you  and  Mr. 
Gauge.  You  have  been  very  kind  to  me,  and  I  wanted  to  show  that  I 
was  worthy  of  consideration.  Will  you  let  me  try  again?'7 

"  I  was  just  coming  to  request  you  to  resume  your  place." 

Then  we  all  cheered,  and  Tommy  executed  a  hand-spring  and  gave 
a  whistle  which  made  us  jump  as  if  a  policeman  had  sprung  his  rattle 
amoiiG:  us. 

"Oh,  I  didn't  mean  that,"  the  little  lady  said,  smiling  and  blushing 
with  pleasure. 

"  Not  that  ?  Have  you  another  idea  ?"  asked  Mr.  Gauge,  anxious 
to  promote  the  return  of  good  feeling. 

«  Yes, — that  is,"  said  Miss  Winters,  hesitantly,  "  I  used  to — to  find 
things." 

"Find  things?" 

"  Yes,  sir, — when  I  was  a  child,  you  know.  What  Mr.  Bronson 
said  made  me  think  of  it.  The  other  children  used  to  hide  things,  and 
I  would  hold  their  hands  and  make  them  tell  me  what  they  had  hidden, 
and  presently  I  would  tell  them  where  it  was.  Sometimes  the  one  I 
talked  to  did  not  know  where  it  was,  and  sometimes  it  would  be  hidden 
where  I  had  never  been.  When  I  grew  older  my  mother  made  me 
promise  not  to  do  this.  I  don't  know  as  I  could  now ;  but,  if  you 


A  BILL   OF  DISCOVERY.  131 

would  like,  I  will  try.  That  is,  I  would  if  -  "  She  paused  in 
evident  embarrassment. 

"If  what?"  asked  Mr.  Gauge,  sharply.  "You  heard  the  offer  Mr. 
Swallow  made  for  the  recovery  of  this  paper,  I  suppose  ?" 

"  Oh,  it  isn't  that,"  she  exclaimed,  quickly.  "  I  don't  want  the 
money,  —  only  what  I  earn,"  she  added,  proudly;  "but  sometimes,  you, 


"  ~\YTell  ?"  said  Mr.  Gauge,  suspiciously. 

"  Sometimes,  you  see,"  she  said,  stammering  painfully,  "  when  I  do 
that  I  —  I  become  unconscious.  If  there  were  some  —  some  other  lady 
here,  I  —  I  would  be  glad  —  to  try." 

"  What  do  you  think  ?"  asked  the  Senior,  turning  to  Mr.  Swallow. 

"  I  don't  know,"  answered  Mr.  Swallow.  "  Couldn't  do  any 
harm." 

"  Unless  it  should  get  out,"  said  Mr.  Gauge,  dubiously. 

"  Well,  yes  ;  we'd  get  laughed  at  then." 

"  If  we  don't  find  the  paper  it  doesn't  matter  how  much  we  are 
laughed  at." 

"  That^s  so.     But  the  lady  :  whom  can  we  get  ?" 

"  Mrs.  Gauge  is  to  call  for  me  with  the  carriage  at  four.  It  must 
be  about  that  time  now,"  consulting  his  watch.  —  "  Mr.  Fountain,  will 
you  go  down  and  ask  her  to  come  up?" 

I  reached  the  sidewalk  just  in  time  to  escort  up  the  stairs  the  gra 
cious  wife  of  the  senior  partner,  and,  taking  advantage  of  my  good 
fortune,  I  waited  to  see  what  followed. 

The  situation  was  hastily  explained  to  the  lady.  She  looked  sharply 
at  the  flushed  and  trembling  girl  who  sat  near  her,  and  said,  laying  a 
hand  familiarly  on  her  wrist,  — 

"  Do  you  think  you  could  find  it,  my  dear?" 

"  I  don't  know.     I  can  try,"  was  the  timid  answer. 

"Why  did  your  mother  object  to  your  doing  such  things?" 

"  She  thought  it  was  not  good  for  me.  She  said  it  shortened  my 
father's  life." 

"How  do  you  do  it?" 

"  I  don't  know." 

"Is  there  anything  supernatural  about  it?  —  like  spiritualism,  I 
mean  ?" 

"  I  don't  know  anything  about  that.  You  see,  I  just  think  and 
think,  until  it  seems  as  if  I  would  die;  and  then,  perhaps  all  at  once, 


132  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

I  am  in  a  large  place  away  from  everybody  and  myself  too,— only 
lean  see — oh,  everywhere— just  everywhere!  Sometimes  I  can  see 
what  I  want  to  find,  but  cannot  tell  where  it  is.  Then  again  I  can  see 
nothing  distinctly." 

"And  after  it  is  over?" 

"  I  am  very  tired,— very  tired,"  said  the  girl,  simply. 

"  You  do  not  think  it  would  hurt  you?" 

"  Oh,  I  guess  not,"  with  a  pathetic  smile. 

"Are  you  sure?"  asked  the  strange  gentleman,  anxiously. 

"  I  am  willing  to  try,"  she  answered,  without  looking  up. 

"Well,  the  result  was  that  it  was  decided  to  try  the  experiment. 
The  young  lady  was  placed  in  a  chair,  tipped  backward,  with  a  cushion 
beneath  her  head.  She  held  Mrs.  Gauge's  hand,— "just  so  I  may  feel 
safe,  you  know,"  she  said.  Mr.  Gauge  and  Mr.  Swallow  sat  in  front 
of  her. 

"  Now  talk  about  it,"  she  said.  "  Tell  me  just  how  it  looked,  what 
was  in  it,  and  all  you  know  about  it." 

She  closed  her  eyes,  and  the  partners  talked  about  the  lost  paper. 
Mr.  Swallow  described  its  appearance,  Mr.  Gauge  recited  its  contents, 
and  they  helped  each  other  out  with  the  story  of  its  execution  as  they 
had  heard  it  from  their  clients  and  witnesses.  For  a  while  she  sat 
silent,  holding  the  hand  of  Mrs.  Gauge,  who  watched  her  with  motherly 
solicitude.  The  blue  veins  stood  out  upon  her  temples,  and  her  eyes 
seemed  to  shrink  back  into  great  dark  caverns.  Then  her  lips  began 
to  twitch,  her  hands  to  tremble,  and  the  one  Mrs.  Gauge  held  to  clasp 
convulsively.  Her  eyelids  twitched  curiously,  too, — from  the  middle 
outward,  it  seemed.  She  had  asked  us  all  to  think  of  the  lost  paper 
and  be  certain  to  speak  of  nothing  else.  I  knew  nothing  about  the 
paper,  and,  getting  tired  of  thinking  of  nothing,  I  looked^  at  her  and 
thought  of  her.  Instinctively  the  partners  stopped  talking  as  they 
noted  these  things.  We  all  watched  the  delicate  creature  as  ^  she  sank 
into  the  trance-state  with  compassion,  feeling  that  she  was  giving  some 
thing  of  her  very  life  to  testify  her  gratitude  and  devotion  to  her  em 
ployers. 

"Presently  she  began  to  moan,  turning  her  head  one  way  and  the 
other.  Her  brow  was  knotted  into  a  frown  of  unmistakable  suffer 
ing.  After  a  while  she  talked  indistinctly  and  brokenly,  shivering 
from  head  to  foot : 

"  How  dark  it  is  !— the  mountains  roar.     Three  men  sit  around  a 


A  BILL   OF  DISCOVERY.  133 

box  :  one  of  them  writes, — two — no,  three  papers.  One  is  burned  at 
the  corner;  a  drop  of  grease  has  fallen  on  one.  It  is  a  grub-stake 
agreement.  The  grub-staker  takes  the  one  with  the  drop  of  tallow  on 
it ;  the  old  man,  the  one  with  the  burned  corner ;  the  young  man,  the 
other." 

There  was  a  moment  of  moaning  and  incoherence.  Then  she  went 
on  : 

"  It  is  day, — in  a  strange  city, — very  bright.  There  are  snowy 
mountains  a  little  way  off.  The  streets  are  crowded  with  vehicles,  but 
they  make  no  noise.  The  three  men  again.  The  old  man  and  the 
young  man  are  ragged  and  lean.  They  show  the  other  lumps  of  rock 
which  they  take  out  of  a  bag.  They  are  eager, — excited.  The  fat  man 
shakes  his  head.  They  ask  for  money.  He  still  shakes  his  head. 
Then  they  quarrel.  They  go  out  and  leave  the  ores.  The  fat  man 
hides  them.  He  takes  out  the  paper  and  looks  at  it,  then  burns  it 
up." 

Here  came  another  pause.     AVe  were  all  intensely  excited. 

"Did  you  ever  hear  of  that  before?"  whispers  Mr.  Swallow. 

The  stranger  shakes  his  head. 

The  girl  continued.  Her  muscles  were  tensely  strung,  and  great 
sweat-drops  stood  upon  her  forehead.  She  evidently  suffered  greatly. 

"  Poor  girl  !"  said  Mrs.  Gauge,  compassionately. 

"  The  old  man  is  in  the  city.  He  has  a  long  white  beard.  He  is 
rich,  and  lives  in  a  fine  house.  He  comes  here  to  see  Mr.  Gauge, — 
always  Mr.  Gauge.  He  has  a  new  name,  and  a  box, — a  round  box." 

Mr.  Gauge  started  to  his  feet.  "  Murrow !"  whispered  Mr.  Swallow, 
excitedly.  Mr.  Gauge  nodded. 

"  He  has  a  key,  too,— a  curious  key.     He  gives  it  to  Mr.  Gauge." 

The  girl  lay  still  for  a  moment,  then,  springing  up,  her  face  dis 
torted  with  excitement,  she  shrieked  out,  pointing  her  finger  straight  at 
Mr.  Gauge,  but  without  opening  her  eyes, — 

"  The  key  !— the  key  !  Give  me  the  key  !  Alive  or  dead  !— alive 
or  dead  ! — alive  or  dead  !" 

Then  she  sank  back  exhausted.  Mr.  Gauge  stepped  quickly  to  his 
desk  on  tiptoe  and  returned  with  a  queer  round  key  ha  vino-  four  prongs 
"Nobody  knew  of  it,"  he  whispered. 

I  think  we  all  turned  pale.  I  felt  as  if  the  blood  were  tricklino- 
from  my  veins.  I  should  have  fainted  if  some  one  had  not  spoken. 

"  It's  in  the  box,"  the  girl  went  on,  « the  round  box.     One— three 
12 


134  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

— I  can't  see  the  other  figure.  It's  in  the  box, — the  paper  with  the 
burnt  corner." 

Mr.  Gauge  stepped  to  the  vault  and  returned  with  a  round  box 
covered  with  leather.  It  looked  like  a  hat-box.  On  the  end  were 
two  initials,  A.  M.,  and  the  figures  1  and  3.  There  had  been  another 
between  them,  but  it  had  been  erased.  It  seemed  to  relieve  the  girl  to 
have  the  box  brought  near. 

"  It's  here,"  she  said,  "  in  a  big  envelope, — sealed  up, — Mr.  Gauge's 
— no,  Mr.  Swallow's  seal." 

Mr.  Gauge  opened  the  box.  A  sealed  envelope  lay  on  the  top.  He 
started. 

"  I  had  forgotten,"  he  whispered  to  Mr.  Swallow :  "  I  borrowed 
your  seal  one  day  for  Murrow ;  could  not  find  mine." 

"  It's  there, — it's  there,"  said  the  girl,  with  a  sigh  of  contentment. 

"  Open  it,"  whispered  Mr.  Swallow. 

The  Senior  broke  the  seal  and  ran  over  the  contents  of  the  envelope. 
A  small  paper,  worn  and  creased,  with  a  corner  blackened  by  fire,  fell 
out.  The  stranger  seized  it.  The  girl  drew  a  long  breath  and  seemed 
to  sink  into  peaceful  slumber. 

"  This  is  Newcombe's,"  said  the  stranger.  "  Where  is  the  other  ? 
If  we  can  only  get  the  other !  Where  is  Dole's?  Ask  her,  quick  !" 

"Dole's?  Dole's?"  repeated  the  tranced  girl,  wearily.  "I  don't 
see  it.  I  can't  find  it." 

"  You  must — try — we  must  have  it !"  exclaimed  the  stranger,  harshly. 
I  hated  him  for  his  cruelty. 

"  Dole's — Dole's I  am  in  a  large  room.  There  are  books — 

books — everywhere.  It  is  here,  but  I  cannot  see  it.  I  am  tired, — oh, 
so  tired !" 

"  Poor  child  !"  said  Mrs.  Gauge  :  "  don't  worry  her  any  more." 

Miss  Winters  sank  back,  breathing  painfully.  Mr.  Gauge  and  Mr. 
Swallow  hastily  examined  the  papers  found  in  the  box. 

"  He  hasn't  been  in  the  office  for  a  year,"  I  heard  the  former  say. 
"  Said  he  was  going  away  and  might  not  return,  but  would  give  me  a 
sign  when  I  should  open  it, — said  I  need  not  be  afraid  ;  he  would  let 
me  know,  '  dead  or  alive.'  Those  were  his  very  words.  He  was  a 
great  spiritualist,  you  know.  Makes  one's  flesh  crawl,  don't  it  ?"  he 
said,  with  a  shiver. 

"  Hadn't  you  better  wake  her  ?"  asked  the  stranger,  anxiously. 


A  SILL   OF  DISCOVERY.  135 

"Yes,  indeed,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Swallow.  "She  must  be  waked.  It 
is  very  dangerous  to  go  from  a  trance-state  into  sleep." 

I  brought  a  glass  of  water.  Mrs.  Gauge  bathed  her  face.  Then  I 
was  sent  after  spirits.  A  little  was  poured  into  her  mouth.  Every 
muscle  was  relaxed  and  limp.  We  chafed  her  hands,  rubbed  her 
temples,  pinched  her -fingers.  Mrs.  Gauge  had  loosened  her  clothing, 
throwing  her  own  shawl  over  the  girl's  shoulders. 

Little  by  little  she  recovered  consciousness,  but  she  was  still  weak 
and  unnerved.  She  laughed  and  wept  at  once. 

"  Oh,  dear  !  I  am  so  tired  !"  she  moaned.  "  Why  didn't  you  let 
me  sleep?  Isn't  it  time  to  go  home?" 

"  Poor  child  !"  said  the  tender-hearted  matron.  "  You  are  not  going 
home  to-night :  you  are  going  with  me.  You  must  stay  with  me  until 
Monday  at  least.  They  won't  want  you  here,  now  they  have  found  the 
paper." 

"  What  is  your  full  name,  Miss  Winters  ?"  asked  the  Senior,  looking 
up  from  the  papers  he  held. 

"  Marion  Edna,"  she  answered,  with  a  smile. 

"And  your  father's?" 

"  Henry  Winters." 

"  Tell  them  to  put  things  up,  Mr.  Fountain ;  they  need  look  no 
farther.  If  I  am  not  much  mistaken,  Miss  Winters,  you  have  dreamed 
to  some  purpose  for  yourself  as  well  as  others.  Take  her  home,  my 
dear.  We  must  look  over  these  papers ;  but  I  will  follow  in  an  hour." 

The  stranger  escorted  the  ladies  down-stairs :  Mr.  Burrill  was  sent 
for,  and  there  was  a  long  consultation  in  Mr.  Swallow's  room.  When 
I  went  to  see  him  to  his  car  that  night,  as  I  always  did,  though  it  was 
a  little  out  of  my  way,  he  said, — 

"  Queer  thing  that  happened  at  the  office  to-day,  wasn't  it  ?  I'm 
sorry  about  it :  don't  like  such  things.  The  girl's  well  enough, — ap 
pears  ^like  a  lady, — but  I  don't  like  trances,  or  spirits,  or  anything  of 
the  kind.  They  aren't  regular ;  there's  no  law  for  'em ;  and  I,  for  one, 
don't  want  any  of  'em  around.  They  found  the  paper,  but  it  isn't  the 
one  that  was  lost,  and  nothing  on  it  to  show  that  it's  a  duplicate  origi 
nal  :  that's  always  been  understood,  though  ;  all  the  witnesses  say  that." 

"  Who  was  this  Murrow, — the  man  who  owned  the  box  ?" 

"  I  don't  know  anything  about  him,"  said  the  old  man,  testily, — 
"  never  liked  his  looks,  and  never  cultivated  his  acquaintance.  He  was 
a  tall,  weakly- looking  man,  with  a  long  white  beard;  lived  up-town, 


136  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

and  used  to  speculate  on  <  tips'  he  claimed  the  spirits  gave  him.  He 
seemed  to  be  very  successful,  though,  spirits  or  no  spirits,  and  was 
reported  to  have  made  no  end  of  money.  He  went  off  a  year  or  more 
ago,  to  hunt  up  his  son,  he  said,  with  whom  it  seems  there  had  been 
some  disagreement  in  his  less  prosperous  days.  He  sold  his  house  and 
settled  everything  up  as  if  he  never  expected  to  come  back.  So  far  as 
I  can  see,  he  seems  to  have  just  crawled  into  that  round  box  of  his  and 
disappeared.  He  lived  just  back  of  Hazzard's  place, — the  sewing- 
machine  man,  you  know,  on  Fifth  Avenue, — bought  the  house  of  him, 
and,  it  seems,  sold  it  back  to  him  when  he  went  away.  A  queer  thing 
about  it  is  that  Hazzard  is  Swallow's  client  and  Marrow  Gauge's  ;  so 
that  Swallow  witnessed  one  deed  and  Gauge  the  other.  Each  one's 
client  seemed  to  have  a  sort  of  aversion  to  the  man  he  did  not  employ. 
Hazzard  told  Swallow  he  didn't  like  a  man  who  stood  so  straight  he 
leaned  backward;  and  Murrow  told  Gauge  he  didn't  want  an  attorney 
who  had  to  have  a  partner  to  help  him  keep  his  clients'  secrets.  The 
partners  laughed  at  each  other  over  these  left-handed  compliments,  but 
are  both  of  them  so  faithful  to  their  clients  that  they  have  never  said  a 
word  to  each  other  about  the  business  they  did  for  them  until  to-day. 
I  doubt  if  they  would  ever  have  done  so  if  it  had  not  been  that  Mur 
row  was  mixed  up  in  this  matter  and  Mr.  Gauge  believed  him  dead. 
They  don't  often  have  individual  clients,  and  it  is  a  good  thing  they  do 
not.  I  tell  you,  Mr.  Fountain,  if  lawyers  are  in  partnership  they 
ought  to  be  like  husband  and  wife, — no  secrets  between  them." 

The  case  of  Dole's  Heirs  vs.  The  Ruby  Mining  Co.  was  called  for 
trial  on  Monday  morning,  but,  after  a  brief  consultation  between  the 
counsel,  was  continued  by  consent.  After  a  good  deal  of  negotiation, 
some  adjustment  was  arrived  at,  by  which  it  was  agreed  that  the  plain 
tiff's  proofs  should  be  cancelled  and  judgment  entered  for  the  defend 
ants.  I  never  knew  exactly  what  it  was. 

There  was  very  little  said  about  the  matter  in  the  office.  Miss 
Winters  did  not  return  to  work,  notwithstanding  the  signal  service  she 
had  rendered  the  firm.  A  while  afterwards  I  asked  Mr.  Burrill  how 
the  case  came  out. 

"  I  wouldn't  talk  about  the  matter  if  I  were  you,  Mr.  Fountain," 
he  answered,  testily.  "  There  was  something  crooked  about  the  case  ; 
and  our  folks  feel  very  sore  over  it.  They  know  somebody  has  played 
them  like  a  flute;  and  the  worst  of  it  is,  they  don't  exactly  know  who 
did  it.  There  doesn't  seem  to  have  been  any  wrong  done,  but  the  fair 


A  BILL   OF  DISCOVERY.  137 

tiling  was  brought  about  in  such  a  questionable  way  that  they  don't  like 
to  hear  about  it. 

"  There  wasn't  any  doubt  about  the  contract :  that  was  all  straight. 
Snead,  the  grub-staker,  thinking  his  partners  had  disappeared,  changed 
the  name  of  the  mine,  which  was  in  a  new  district,  made  some  develop 
ments,  and  sold  it  to  the  company,  making  millions  out  of  it  in  the  end. 
He  stood  behind  the  company,  of  course,  in  the  suit.  He  knew  his 
only  chance  was  to  get  hold  of  the  contract  or  else  to  buy  up  Dole's 
heirs.  Spite  of  all  he  could  do,  he  couldn't  find  Dole's  heirs,  however, 
— which  is  not  strange,  for  Dole  wasn't  Dole  at  all.  So  he  stole  the 
contract,  or  had  it  stolen,  from  our  office,  and  left  it  under  seal  with 
his  counsel." 

"  How  did  he  get  it  ?" 

"Don't  ask  me.  I  think  Gauge  &  Swallow  would  give  a  snug  bit 
to  know  themselves.  The  girl — Miss  Winters,  I  mean — went  into  a 
trance  after  she  left  here,  and  described  the  place  where  it  was  hidden  so 
minutely  that  Mr.  Swallow  recognized  a  desk  in  the  office  of  Ewell  & 
Stafford,  the  defendants'  attorneys,  and  went  there  the  next  day  with  a 
search-warrant  and  an  officer  and  demanded  the  paper  of  the  man  who 
sat  at  the  desk.  It  was  a  bold  thing  to  do  on  such  evidence,  but  Mr. 
Swallow  hadn't  any  more  doubt But  he  won't  ever  do  it  again. 

"  Well,  of  course,  Ewell  &  Stafford  didn't  want  a  row.  So  they 
told  the  Junior  to  search  the  desk,  if  he  wanted  to  take  the  responsi 
bility.  It  wasn't  any  use  to  try  and  bluff  Mr.  Swallow.  He'd  have 
bet  his  immortal  soul  on  what  that  trance-medium  said.  And,  sure 
enough,  the  first  thing  he  dropped  on  was  the  envelope  containing  the 
copy  of  the  contract,  with  his  own  endorsement  on  it.  That  settled  the 
case,  of  course.  Ewell  &  Stafford  couldn't  afford  to  have  the  matter 
get  out,  and  would  have  given  away  the  thief  sooner  than  have  the 
charge  of  stealing  the  testimony  made  against  them.  After  that  it  was 
plain  sailing  so  far  as  the  settlement  with  the  company  was  concerned. 
Our  folks  had  it  all  their  own  way,  and  took  what  they  thought  a  fair 
share  of  the  profits  of  the  mine.  It  was  when  it  came  to  paying  over 
the  fund  that  the  trouble  came.  Who  do  you  suppose  was  entitled  to 
all  that  money?" 

"  I  am  sure  I  don't  know." 

"  I  should  think  not,  and  would  never  guess,  either.    Nobody  in  the 
world  but  that  little,  smooth,  innocent  trance-seer  whom  all  you  boys 
were  in  love  with." 
12* 


138  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

"What!  Miss  Winters?" 

"  I  don't  wonder  that  you  are  surprised.  Gauge  &  Swallow  aren't 
often  taken  in,  but  they  were  done  for  that  time.  It's  always  the  way : 
when  a  lawyer  is  gulled  he  never  nibbles  at  the  bait,  but  opens  his 
mouth  and  takes  it  all  in  at  a  gulp,  like  a  big  pike  going  for  a  minnow. 
And  who  do  you  suppose  it  was  put  up  the  job  on  them?" 

I  shook  my  head. 

"  Why,  Mr.  Gauge's  grave,  pious  old  spiritualistic  client  Murrow 
was  nobody  else  than  Newcombe,  while  Dole  was  none  other  than 
Henry  Winters,  who,  according  to  Murrow's  story,  was  his  son  under 
another  alias  or  in  some  previous  state  of  existence, — heaven  knows 
which." 

"  Why  so  many  aliases  ?"  I  asked. 

"  Oli,  I  can't  tell,"  snarled  the  old  man,  "  nor  why  they  were  mas 
querading  as  prospectors  in  the  Rockies,  nor  why  they  got  Snead  to 
grub-stake  them.  Murrow  must  have  had  plenty  of  money.  Of  course 
they  let  Snead  sell  the  mine  because  they  thought  it  cheaper  to  work 
the  company  than  the  mine ;  but  why  they  should  take  such  a  round 
about  way,  and  why  Murrow  should  hide  himself  so  very  carefully,  I 
can't  quite  understand  ;  unless " 

The  old  man  paused  and  rubbed  a  two  days'  stubble  on  his  chin 
reflectively. 

"  You  think "  I  began. 

"  I  think,"  said  he,  "  that  there  isn't  but  one  man  who  can  un 
ravel  all  this  matter." 

"  And  that  is  Murrow  ?" 

"  That  is  a  man  who  is  better  known  in  the  city  here  by  some  other 
name  than  Winters,  or  Murrow,  or  Newcombe,  and  who  doesn't  care 
to  be  known  by  either  of  those  names.  You  see,  a  rich  man  can  have 
as  many  families  as  he  likes  or  as  he  thinks  he  can  afford.  Society 
doesn't  mind  it  much,  and  if  he  is  very  rich  there  is  not  much  danger 
of  prosecution  for  bigamy.  There  is  one  thing  society  is  a  little  par 
ticular  about:  each  family  must  have  a  different  name.  This  is  a 
little  troublesome  to  the  man,  no  doubt,  and  apt  to  make  difficulty 
after  his  death." 

"  Have  Gauge  &  Swallow  any  idea  who  he  is  ?" 

"  Not  the  least.  They  believe  he  is  alive  and  in  the  city,  know  he 
is  rich  and  powerful,  but  who  he  is  they  cannot  guess.  He  might  l>e 
any  one  of  fifty — yes,  any  one  of  a  hundred  or  a  thousand,  for  aught  I 


A   BILL   OF  DISCOVERY.  139 

know.  It  is  just  one  of  the  mysteries  of  which  a  lawyer  gets  a  glimpse 
and  may  never  learn  anything  more  about.  You  see,  a  lawyer's  life 
isn't  like  a  continued  story  with  one  hero  and  all  the  other  characters 
subordinate.  He  sees  a  good  deal  of  tragedy  with  some  comedy  thrown 
in ;  but  to-day  it  is  in  one  life  and  to-morrow  in  another,  and  just  as 
likely  as  not  these  lives  don't  touch  each  other  at  all,  except  through 
the  lawyer  who  is  the  common  agent  for  them  all." 

"  Do  you  know  anything  more  about  Miss  Winters  ?" 
"  I  know,"  said  Burrill,  looking  at  me  over  his  glasses  suspi 
ciously,   "that   there  will  never   be  any  more  trance-exhibitions  nor 
type-writer  girls  in  this  office.     But  she  was  an  artist,  Miss  Winters 
was, — played  to  a  select  audience,  but  made  a  big  hit !" 


VII. 

THE  NEW  ARYAN  MINE  vs.  NOBLES. 

I  HAD  been  with  Gauge  &  Swallow  three  years  when  I  first  met  Mr. 
Eber  Stone,  and  I  think  the  brief  career  of  this  man  in  the  office 
of  the  great  firm  one  of  the  most  singular  episodes  which  occurred 
during  my  connection  with  them.  I  had  just  gotten  fairly  out  of  the 
list  of  mere  clerks  and  was  beginning  to  figure  as  a  salaried  assistant, 
when  Eber  Stone  made  his  appearance  and  without  a  wrord  of  explana 
tion  was  introduced  by  Mr.  Gauge  as  "  a  new  man "  and  given  the 
desk  Mr.  Minton  had  used,  next  to  Mr.  BurrilPs  and  my  own.  It  was 
a  very  strange  proceeding.  A  mere  accident  had,  it  is  true,  procured  for 
me  a  place  in  this  favored  locality  before  my  first  year  had  expired;  but 
that  a  man  should  be  brought  in  and  placed  at  once  over  the  heads  of 
all  the  rest  of  us,  without  being  made  a  partner  or  having  a  recognized 
standing  at  the  bar,  was  a  thing  so  unprecedented  as  to  awaken  not  only 
surprise,  but  indignation,  on  the  part  of  every  member  of  the  regular 
force  of  the  office. 

Of  course  Gauge  &  Swallow  have  a  host  of  clerks  :  many  hands  and 
many  minds  are  absolutely  essential  to  the  discharge  of  that  immense 
mass  of  business  which  comes  to  this  great  mill.  While  commerce  has 
abbreviated  its  forms  and  invented  wonderful  machinery  to  facilitate  its 
operations,  the  law  has  made  but  little  headway  in  the  direction  of 
brevity.  Perhaps  this  is  because  the  lawyer  needs  something  to  show 
for  the  charges  he  makes.  At  any  rate,  while  a  man  can  transfer  ten 
million  dollars  in  ten  words,  he  cannot  sue  for  a  sixpence  without  pay 
ing  for  at  least  a  hundred  folios  of  copy-work.  I  cannot  tell  you  how 
many  servants  Gauge  &  Swallow  have,  but  there  is  quite  an  army  of 
them.  They  are  of  all  classes  :  lawyers  who  are  prepared  to  try  cases 
in  any  court, — salaried  practitioners  who  have  no  interest  in  profit  or 
loss,  for  the  firm  remains  simply  Gauge  &  Swallow, — mere  clerks  and 
copyists,  stenographers,  type-writers,  service-clerks,  accountants,  mes- 

140 


THE  NEW  ARYAN  MINE  vs.  NOBLES.  141 

sengers,  and  detectives,  as  the  dirty  sneaks  are  called  who  spy  and  lie 
as  occasion  may  demand  in  order  to  get  evidence  and  trap  unwary 
parties  into  admissions  that  may  prove  their  ruin,— all  the  human 
machinery  that  is  required  to  save  time  and  exertion  to  the  great  minds 
that  have  built  up  the  first  legal  business  of  the  land.  Strange  as  it 
may  seem,  those  men  often  appear  to  do  most  who  really  do  the  least. 
In  this  age  the  brain  that  follows  only  the  slow  tracery  of  the  pen  in  a 
man's  own  hand  is  pretty  sure  to  fail  of  making  its  proper  mark  in  the 
present,  however  deeply  it  may  blazon  itself  upon  the  future.  Time  is 
not  only  money,  but  it  is  success.  The  man  who  bends  the  greatest 
number  of  instruments  to  his  will,  who  makes  himself  the  centre  of  a 
machine  so  great  that  he  himself  cannot  see  its  outer  edge,— that  man 
earns  and  wins  success. 

Gauge  &  Swallow  deserve  all  they  have  won.  It  is  easy  to  see  that 
sixty  seconds  of  their  time  is  actually  worth  more  money  than  a  whole 
lifetime  of  some  of  their  servitors.  Oh,  it  is  marvellous  what  a  man 
can  do  by  the  organization  of  human  forces,  by  inventing  and  mak 
ing  a  machine  that  shall  do  his  work  automatically,— shall  act  and 
think  and  cause  events  to  come  to  pass  just  as  some  master-mind  shall 
direct.  Gauge  &  Swallow  have  built  their  machine,  and  it  is  the  very 
best  of  its  kind  that  has  been  made  thus  far.  They  can  hardly  be  said, 
in  strictness,  to  practise  law.  In  a  few  great  cases  they  make  themselves 
the  mouth-piece  by  which  an  action  is  laid  before  court  and  jury  but 
even  then  the  better  part  of  the  thought  is  furnished  by  others,— the 
intellectual  slaves  who  grind  in  their  great  mill.  Suppose,  for  instance, 
that  you  take  a  question  to  them,— a  chain  of  circumstances  out  of 
which  you  conceive  that  a  right  has  accrued  or  a  wrong  resulted  to  you. 
A  stenographer  takes  down  your  statement  in  short-hand  ;  a  type-writer 
puts  it  in  legible  form  ;  a  clerk  is  sent  to  search  the  records ;  an  agent 
ascertains  certain  supplemental  facts ;  a  subordinate  makes  up  a  brief; 
and  Mr.  Gauge  gives  you  his  opinion  when  you  call,  a  day  or  two  after 
wards,  for  advice.  It  is  his  opinion,  too.  He  knows  the  machine  he 
has  put  together,  and  can  vouch  for  its  action.  Indeed,  its  action  is  his 
action,  since  he,  as  it  were,  created  the  intelligence  to  which  he  assigns 
the  various  steps  of  what  may  very  well  be  termed  his  own  intellection. 
Eyes  and  ears,  learning  and  judgment,  he  has  directed  upon  your  claim 
of  right ;  and  when  that  subordinate  and  intricate  engine  has  acted,  he 
knows  well  enough  that  its  conclusion  is  the  very  one  at  which  he  would 
have  arrived  had  he  taken  the  various  steps  himself.  Therefore  he 


142  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

truthfully  says,  "  We  think/'  "  It  is  our  opinion,"  etc.,  though  he  may 
not  have  seen  Mr.  Swallow  in  a  week  and  never  have  mentioned  your 
name  or  your  matters  to  him.  You  have  simply  been  put  into  their 
mill,  and  the  machine  has  ground  you  out, — flour,  it  may  be,  or  bran. 
They  have  not  seen  nor  heard  nor  known  what  rollers  have  touched 
the  kernels  of  your  interests,  yet  it  is  their  work.  Gauge  &  Swallow 
are  your  lawyers,  and  have  served  you  faithfully. 

Of  course,  such  men  have  to  know  not  only  how  to  do  things  them 
selves,  but  also  how  to  select  men  to  do  certain  things  for  them.  So 
it  has  come  to  be  an  honor  to  be  employed  by  this  great  firm.  A  man 
who  can  keep  his  place  in  their  office  year  after  year  is  very  sure  to  be 
able  to  do  whatever  he  pretends  to  do,  not  only  well,  but  rapidly  and 
easily.  It  will  be  readily  understood,  therefore,  that  the  whole  office 
was  thrown  into  a  profound  excitement  when  Mr.  Gauge  introduced 
Mr.  Eber  Stone  to  the  chief  clerk  and  informed  that  functionary  that  the 
new-comer  would  have  Mr.  Min ton's  desk  and  work  under  his — Mr. 
Gauge's — especial  direction.  The  chief  clerk  was  directed  to  see  that 
all  of  Mr.  Stone's  wants  were  promptly  supplied  without  waiting  for 
further  authority.  He  was  also  introduced  to  me, — because,  I  suppose, 
we  were  to  be  near  neighbors  at  our  desks.  Mr.  Burrill  was  just  then  at 
the  West,  having  been  summoned  by  Mr.  Minton  to  act  for  him  in  an 
important  matter, — his  wife  had  fallen  heir  to  the  estate  of  Mr.  Gauge's 
old  client  Mrs.  Ensworth, — after  which  he  was  to  look  up  some  matters 
for  the  firm  in  connection  with  certain  mining  properties  in  Colorado. 
It  was  the  only  way  he  could  be  cheated  into  taking  something  like  a 
vacation  from  office-work.  It  happened,  therefore,  that  he  was  absent 
during  the  whole  of  Mr.  Stone's  stay  and  for  several  months  afterwards. 
I  was  not  especially  cordial  in  my  greeting  of  the  new-comer,  since  I  at 
once  perceived  that  he  was  not  likely  to  be  a  favorite  in  the  office,  and 
the  favor  of  one's  associates  and  immediate  superiors  is  generally  of 
more  importance  to  an  ambitious  man  than  the  good-will  of  those  in 
supreme  command.  I  was  still  ambitious,  though  not  so  sanguine  as  I 
had  once  been.  My  patrimony  had  been  consumed  before  my  salary 
sufficed  for  even  a  comfortable  support  for  myself  and  the  mother  who 
dreamed  of  my  success  on  the  sterile  farm  among  the  New  Hampshire 
hills.  It  is  queer  how  swiftly  one's  ambition  fades  when  he  finds  him 
self  powerless  to  gratify  it.  I  had  dreamed  of  success  and  wealth  and 
a  city  home, — a  home  of  unaccustomed  splendor  to  which  I  would 
invite  the  sharp-faced,  hard-handed  woman  who  had  devoted  so  many 


THE  NEW  ARYAN  MINE  vs.  NOBLES.  143 

years  to  saving  enough  to  launch  the  one  child  of  her  dead  husband  on 
the  way  to  fame.  Already  my  ambition  had  changed  to  a  sort  of  com 
placent  gratitude  that  I  was  able  to  achieve  a  comfortable  support  and 
remit  a  few  dollars  monthly  to  her.  I  well  knew  she  would  never 
use  it  save  in  the  direst  extremity,  but  her  happiness  would  be  even 
greater  in  adding  each  remittance  to  the  little  hoard  which  long  practice 
of  rigid  economy  made  it  to  her  little  less  than  rapture  to  accumulate. 

When  he  made  such  an  unexpected  debut  in  the  office  of  Gauge  & 
Swallow,  Eber  Stone  was  a  man  of  thirty-five  or  forty  years  of  age, 
hardly  above  the  average  height,  but  of  such  compactness  as  to  bear 
down  the  scales  out  of  all  proportion  to  his  casual  appearance.  His 
hands  had  a  brown,  rough  look,  as  if  tanned  by  exposure  rather  than 
hardened  by  toil.  He  was  well  enough  dressed,  yet  there  was  a  certain 
air  of  negligence  about  his  apparel  that  impressed  one  with  the  idea  that 
he  gave  very  little  attention  to  it,  and  perhaps  half-despised  a  man  who 
did.  His  face  was  rather  attractive  when  one  came  to  consider  it  care 
fully.  The  beard  that  fell  in  brown  luxuriance  over  lip  and  chin  was 
somewhat  too  long  for  the  city's  style,  but  not  long  enough  to  seem 
straggling  or  unusual.  It  just  hid  the  opening  of  his  high-cut  vest, 
and,  with  his  rather  heavy  brows,  made  a  fine  setting  for  the  calm  gray 
eyes  and  fair,  almost  ruddy  face.  He  was  not  a  man  to  be  especially 
noticed  in  a  crowd  because  of  the  perfect  symmetry  of  his  figure  and 
the  unobtrusiveness  of  his  manner,  yet  he  could  not  fail  to  make  an 
impression  on  any  one  who  considered  him  individually.  There  was  a 
rumor  that  the  new  man  had  come  from  the  West,  which,  indeed,  seemed 
probable,  both  from  his  personal  appearance  and  his  mental  characteristics. 
Nobody  had  ever  heard  of  him,  and  his  name  was  not  even  to  be  found 
on  the  rolls  of  the  profession  nor  in  the  city  directory.  He  was  quite 
reserved,  and  seemed  to  be  what  we  call  "  rusty  "  in  some  branches  of 
the  law,  and  especially  dull  in  relation  to  the  details  of  business.  By 
"  business,"  of  course,  I  do  not  mean  the  vulgar  thing  sometimes  known 
as  trade,  in  which  .men  buy  and  sell,  ship  and  handle,  the  actual  prod 
ucts  of  labor  or  skill :  I  mean,  rather,  that  genteel  vocation  wherein 
men  buy  and  sell  not  only  what  they  have  not,  but  what  they  never 
expect  to  have.  "  Business,"  by  our  modern  definition,  really  means 
only  that  which  is  done  upon  "  the  Street,"  where  men  meet  in  queer 
dark  offices  in  which  the  "  ticker  "  reigns  supreme,  or  in  the  crowded, 
bustling  exchanges  where  "  bulls  "  and  " bears"  buy  and  sell  themselves 
or  others  "  long  "  or  "  short."  That  is,  they  call  it  buying  and  selling, 


144  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

though,  in  fact,  they  only  take  this  method  of  betting,  in  a  strictly  legal 
way  of  course,  upon  events  far  more  uncertain  than  a  horse-race,  and 
no  more  akin  to  trade  than  staking  money  on  the  colors  in  rouge- 
et-noir. 

Stone,  I  say,  knew  nothing  of  this  sort  of  "  business  "  when  he  came 
to  Gauge  &  Swallow's  office.  Where  he  had  been  all  his  life  I  never 
could  make  out.  He  was  not  inclined  to  confidence,  and  from  the  cir 
cumstances  attending  his  introduction  to  the  office  we  were  as  little  in 
clined  to  force  attentions  on  him.  If  he  was  ignorant  of  "  business," 
however,  it  was  about  the  only  thing  he  did  not  understand.  I  never 
saw  such  a  man  for  knowing  what  others  had  never  thought  of  learn 
ing  or  for  having  at  his  fingers'  ends  what  no  one  else  could  find  out. 

It  was  a  matter  of  no  little  curiosity  as  well  as  the  cause  of  great 
indignation  that  a  man  should  come  into  the  office  by  such  a  short  cut 
and  then  not  be  subject  to  its  rules.  Preferment  in  the  service  of  the 
firm  was  as  jealously  sought  by  its  clerks  and  prospects  as  eagerly  can 
vassed  among  them  as  among  the  subalterns  of  an  army.  That  a 
stranger  should  be  thrust  over  us  and  put  at  once  into  a  relation  of 
confidence  which  no  one  but  Burrill  had  ever  enjoyed — and  especially 
that  he  should  be  exempted  from  the  control  and  oversight  of  the  chief 
clerk,  who  had  long  been  looking  forward  to  a  junior  partnership — was 
thought  by  the  whole  office  to  be  little  less  of  an  outrage  than  the  divest 
ment  of  a  chartered  privilege  or  the  infraction  of  a  prescriptive  right. 
Many  a  subordinate  made  haste  to  intimate  with  more  or  less  explicit- 
ness  his  sympathy  with  the  official  whose  nasal  promontory  had  been 
thus  unceremoniously  fractured,  and  it  was  understood  that  the  new 
comer  would  be  vigorously  tabooed  by  the  office  generally.  As  for 
the  chief  clerk  himself,  I  am  bound  to  say  that  his  conduct,  though 
very  natural,  was  not  by  any  means  marked  by  that  subtlety  of  penetra 
tion  which  his  well-known  aspirations  would  seem  to  have  justified  one 
in  expecting  from  him.  A  man  who  sought  to  become  a  junior  partner 
in  the  firm  of  Gauge  &  Swallow  should  have  had  enough  self-control 
not  to  display  chagrin  at  the  action  of  his  employers.  Had  he  been  a 
man  of  really  great  parts,  Mr.  Bronson  would  have  welcomed  Mr. 
Stone  with  effusive  cordiality,  have  introduced  him  at  least  to  those 
clerks  whose  desks  were  adjacent  to  the  one  he  was  to  occupy,  and  put 
himself  at  once  at  the  disposal  of  the  new  favorite.  Mr.  Bronson  was 
not  large  enough  for  this  role,  which,  to  tell  the  truth,  would  have 
indicated  no  little  genius  on  the  part  of  one  who  should  have  adopted 


THE  NEW  AEYAN  MINE  vs.  NOBLES.  145 

it.  On  the  contrary,  he  merely  glanced  at  the  stranger  and  in  response 
to  Mr.  Gauge's  instructions  said  curtly  and  moodily, 

"  Very  well,  sir." 

I  noticed  that  the  Senior  gave  him  one  of  those  keen  glances,  so 
quick  and  careless  that  very  few  were  ever  able  to  surprise  and  interpret 
them,  which  have  been  such  an  important  element  of  his  power,  espe 
cially  in  cross-examination,  but  thought  nothing  more  of  it  at  the  time. 

When  Mr.  Gauge  had  left  the  room  after  installing  the  stranger  at 
Minton's  desk  and  wishing  him  success  very  heartily, — almost  effusively 
it  seemed  to  me, — the  chief  clerk  sent  the  office-boy  with  the  key  of  the 
desk  and  instructions  to  ask  Mr.  Stone  what  he  required  in  the  way  of 
stationery.  I  saw  a  queer  glance  shoot  out  from  under  the  stranger's 
shaggy  brows  at  this  inquiry,  and  then  a  half-smile  settled  about  his  lips 
as  he  directed  the  messenger  to  ask  Mr.  Bronson  if  he  would  give  him 
a  few  minutes  of  his  time  when  convenient.  In  the  meanwhile,  he 
said,  he  wished  only  a  quire  or  so  of  legal-cap  paper,  some  of  the  firm's 
envelopes,  and  a  few  sheets  of  note-paper.  These  having  been  brought 
him,  with  pens,  ink,  and  blotting-pad,  Mr.  Stone  proceeded  to  arrange 
his  desk,  apparently  quite  unconscious  of  the  hostile  glances  directed 
towards  him  from  all  parts  of  the  room.  Naturally  enough,  we  all  felt 
the  affront  to  Mr.  Bronson,  whose  promotion  to  a  partnership  would 
have  resulted  in  lifting  each  of  us  one  rung  higher  on  the  ladder  of 
preferment.  After  settling  his  desk  to  his  satisfaction,  the  new  man 
opened  a  somewhat  dilapidated  leather  bag  which  he  had  brought  with 
him,  and,  taking  therefrom  a  bundle  of  papers,  proceeded  to  their  exam 
ination  with  genuine  lawyer-like  abstraction.  The  desk  at  which  he  sat 
was  in  the  embrasure  of  a  window,  flanked  upon  one  side  by  the  wall, 
and  buttressed,  when  in  use,  upon  the  other  side  by  a  set  of  pigeon 
holes  which  swung  back  on  hinges  to  the  left  of  the  occupant.  As  he 
sat  at  his  desk,  therefore,  he  faced  the  whole  room  and  was  easily 
studied  from  every  part  of  it,  though  thoroughly  protected  from  near 
approach  or  unfriendly  inspection  of  his  work. 

It  was  a  good  while  before  Mr.  Bronson  found  it  convenient  to  give 
the  interloper,  as  he  was  already  considered,  the  few  moments  he  had 
desired.  When,  at  length,  he  bustled  over  to  his  desk  and  inquired  in 
a  brusque  and  hurried  manner  what  was  wanted,  Mr.  Stone  did  not 
appear  in  the  least  discomposed,  but,  quietly  leaning  back  in  his  chair, 
asked  a  series  of  questions  in  regard  to  the  routine  of  business  in  the 
office  in  a  tone  loud  enough  to  be  heard  at  all  the  neighboring  desks. 
13  G 


14G  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

He  wished  to  know  in  what  rooms  the  library  could  be  found,  to  whom 
he  should  apply  for  messenger  service,  when  he  could  have  a  stenog 
rapher  at  his  disposal,  and  if  the  chief  clerk  could  refer  him  to  any 
competent  Spanish  and  French  translator.  When  Mr.  Bronson  had 
answered  all  these  questions,  he  could  not  help  asking  in  a  sarcastic 
tone  if  there  was  not  something  else  he  could  do  for  him.  There  was 
a  flash  of  fun,  I  thought,  in  the  stranger's  eyes  as  he  replied  : 

"  Nothing  more  at  present,  Mr.  Bronson.  It  is  a  long  time  since  I 
was  familiar  with  New  York  practice  and  New  York  ways,  and  I  am 
not  exactly  up  to  such  work  as  I  am  now  engaged  on  ;  so  you  will  have 
to  bear  with  me  a  little  at  first." 

The  chief  clerk  strangled  his  reply  in  a  cough,  and  a  sort  of 
incredulous  snicker  ran  around  the  line  of  desks.  Mr.  Bronson  told 
me  afterward  that  he  ventured  to  mention  the  new  man's  rather  numer 
ous  wants  to  Mr.  Swallow,  and  to  intimate  an  opinion  that  they  were 
somewhat  extravagant.  Mr.  Swallow,  he  said,  merely  looked  at  him 
in  reply  and  said, 

"  Mr.  Gauge  told  you  to  give  him  every  facility  he  might  require, 
I  suppose?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Well,  then,"  rejoined  the  Junior,  with  his  peculiar  chuckle,  "  I 
guess  you  had  better  humor  the  Old  Man.  You  know  he's  a  little — 
just  a  little — headstrong  when  he  doesn't  have  his  own  way,  Mr. 
Bronson." 

"  Then  he  gave  that  infernal  chuckle  again,  and  I  came  away,"  said 
Bronson. 

Mr.  Bronson  could  not  understand  the  situation ;  neither  could  I. 

Things  went  on  in  this  way  for  a  week  or  more.  None  of  us 
paid  any  attention  to  Mr.  Stone,  at  least  in  a  friendly  way,  and 
lie  was  apparently  quite  indifferent  whether  we  did  or  not.  He  was 
evidently  a  lawyer :  there  could  be  no  doubt  of  that.  The  way  in 
which  he  went  through  a  pile  of  papers  and  the  readiness  with  which 
he  used  the  terms  of  the  profession  showed  a  craftsman  familiar  with 
its  tools.  The  ordinary  methods  of  worrying  had  been  resorted  to  with 
out  avail.  As  a  last  resort,  the  chief  clerk  took  advantage  of  a  tempo 
rary  absence  of  both  the  partners  to  approach  the  new  man  in  assumed 
trepidation  and  ask  what  ought  to  be  done  in  a  matter  of  importance  in 
which  there  could  be  no  delay.  He  assumed  to  regard  the  stranger  as 
on  confidential  relations  with  the  firm,  and  desired  instructions  as  a 


THE  NEW  ARYAN  MINE  vs.  NOBLES.  147 

matter  of  course.  Mr.  Stone  said  that  he  was  not  familiar  with  the 
case,  but  coolly  requested  Mr.  Bronson  to  state  the  point,  asked  him 
a  few  pertinent  questions  as  to  the  practice,  and  then  decided  the  matter 
off-hand  as  authoritatively  as  if  he  had  been  a  judge  upon  the  bench. 
Mr.  Bronson  tried  to  demur  to  his  conclusions,  but  the  stranger  said 
smilingly, 

"  Of  course,  you  will  exercise  your  own  discretion.  I  only  give 
you  my  opinion  because  you  ask  it." 

And  Mr.  Bronson  acted  on  this  opinion,  but  he  was  not  at  all  pleased 
that  he  had  to  do  so.  After  that,  somehow,  we  all  got  in  the  habit  of 
referring  difficult  questions  to  Mr.  Stone  almost  as  if  he  had  been  one 
of  the  firm.  Yet,  strangely  enough,  the  partners  seemed  hardly  to  be 
aware  of  his  existence.  He  was  never  sent  for,  and,  so  far  as  any  of 
us  knew,  never  consulted  nor  intrusted  with  any  general  business  of  the 
firm.  He  was  always  busy,  though,  sometimes  with  a  clerk  and  a  ste 
nographer  detailed  to  assist  him,  but  we  could  not  learn  that  the  matters 
he  had  in  hand  were  in  any  way  connected  with  the  firm's  regular 
business.  Now  and  then  Mr.  Swallow  would  come  in  and  sit  and  talk 
with  him  more  familiarly  than  he  had  ever  done  with  any  of  the  other 
clerks,  and  he  went  in  and  out  of  Mr.  Gauge's  room  as  if  he  had  as 
much  right  there  as  the  Senior  himself. 

As  I  occupied  the  nearest  desk,  I  began  after  a  time  to  speak  with 
him,  and  then,  seeing  he  was  such  a  favorite  with  the  firm,  I  thought 
I  could  not  do  better  than  make  up  to  him  a  little.  He  was  quite 
approachable — it  is  a  Western  characteristic,  I  believe — and  met  my 
advances  very  cordially,  as  if  appreciating  my  desire  to  be  friendly. 
None  of  the  other  clerks  seemed  inclined  to  follow  my  example.  Those 
who  were  detailed  to  assist  him  found  him  a  hard  taskmaster,  uncom 
municative  and  especially  keen  in  detecting  errors,  and  not  inviting  any 
familiarity. 

We  got  in  the  habit  of  lunching  together  after  a  while,  almost 
always  at  his  expense,  as  he  would  persist  in  going  to  restaurants  which 
my  salary  would  not  permit  me  to  patronize.  Of  course  I  enjoyed  this 
unusual  indulgence,  and  I  think  it  had  a  good  effect  upon  my  health. 
I  used  to  wonder  how  he  could  afford  it,  but  came  to  the  conclusion, 
after  a  time,  that  he  regarded  it  as  a  sort  of  investment,  in  that  it 
would  be  likely  to  secure  him  at  least  one  friend  in  the  office.  This 
consideration  made  me  feel  somewhat  more  at  liberty  to  accept  his 
unrestricted  Western  hospitality.  After  a  little  he  refused  to  listen  to 


148  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

ray  remonstrances  against  such  lavishness,  and  I  gradually  ceased  to 
make  them.  He  was  not  exactly  a  gentleman,  in  the  sense  we  are 
accustomed  to  use  that  term,  but  there  were  certain  amiable  qualities 
about  him  that  made  him  a  very  agreeable  companion.  Some  of  my 
fellow-clerks  were  inclined  to  cut  me  because  of  my  supposed  intimacy 
with  the  stranger,  but  I  let  them  know  very  distinctly  that  I  was  not 
to  be  deterred  from  an  act  of  courtesy  by  any  fear  of  their  disapproval. 
I  did  this  all  the  more  readily  as  I  was  assured  that,  for  some  reason  or 
other,  the  new  man  had  a  hold  upon  the  firm  that  would  be  verj^  likely 
to  prevent  any  loss  of  favor  because  of  such  attentions. 

Things  went  on  in  this  way  for  several  months.  Mr.  Stone  seemed 
entirely  oblivious  of  the  feeling  towards  him  in  the  office,  and  Mr. 
Bronson  appeared  to  have  forgotten  his  animosity  against  the  intruder, 
when  all  at  once  there  came  an  unexpected  crisis.  For  several  days 
telegrams  and  letters  had  been  pouring  in  upon  Mr.  Stone.  Mr.  Swal 
low,  and  even  Mr.  Gauge,  had  more  than  once  brought  bundles  of 
papers  which  they  had  taken  to  Mr.  Stone  direct,  and  there  had  been 
numerous  long  consultations  with  him  in  Mr.  Gauge's  room.  What 
the  subject  of  these  consultations  was  no  one  in  the  office  knew. 
Finally,  Mr.  Stone  asked  for  another  stenographer  and  several  copyists. 
He  took  these  into  a  room  which  was  reserved  for  special  work.  I  was 
among  those  whom  he  had  especially  asked  might  be  assigned  to  assist 
him.  When  we  were  all  together,  he  said  quietly  that  the  work  we  had 
in  hand  was  one  of  great  importance,  and  that,  as  he  would  be  engaged 
most  of  the  time  in  dictation,  he  wished  me  to  take  charge  of  the  copy 
ing.  The  complaint  in  an  action  involving  immense  interests,  together 
with  the  motion-papers  in  an  application  for  an  order  of  restraint, 
making  in  all,  a  volume  of  several  hundred  pages,  had  to  be  pre 
pared  in  an  incredibly  short  time.  Of  course,  the  utmost  care  was 
necessary  to  prevent  mistakes  which  if  not  fatal  might  cause  vexatious 
and  costly  delay.  I  was  highly  gratified  at  the  confidence  thus  displayed 
in  my  capacity  and  faithfulness.  Two  duplicates  would  be  required, 
besides  the  court  copy,  in  which  certain  original  affidavits  and  other 
papers  would  have  to  be  incorporated,  many  of  which,  being  in  French 
and  Spanish,  had  to  be  accompanied  with  accurate  literal  translations. 

It  was  then  that  I  learned  the  remarkable  capacity  of  this  man  for 
work.  Not  only  did  he  dictate  with  the  utmost  rapidity  and  accuracy 
the  narrative  portions  of  these  important  documents,  but  he  revised  the 
translations  and  corrected  with  his  own  hands  the  proof  copy,  from 


THE  NEW  AEYAN  MINE  vs.  NOBLES.  149 

which  the  other  copies  were  to  be  made.  This  done,  however,  he  paid 
no  further  attention  to  the  work.  All  the  rest  was  left  to  me  and  the 
clerks  who  were  placed  expressly  in  my  charge.  All  that  day  and  night 
and  half  of  the  next  day  he  worked  on,  dictating  first  to  one  stenog 
rapher  and  then  to  another,  looking. up  authorities,  making  extracts,  and 
doing  more  than  had  ever  been  done  by  one  man  in  a  like  period  in  the 
office  of  Gauge  &  Swallow.  The  firm  seemed  very  anxious  about  the 
work,  and  little  by  little  it  absorbed  almost  all  the  extra  force  of  the 
office ;  yet  not  a  word  was  said  about  it  by  either  of  the  partners  to 
any  one  but  Stone. 

Nothing  seemed  to  tire  Eber  Stone.  I  could  not  help  stealing  cat 
naps  all  along  through  the  night,  but  he  had  never  slept  a  wink.  The 
clerks  worked  till  they  were  tired  out,  and  then  got  a  little  sleep  on 
tables  and  chairs  here  and  there  about  the  office.  When  we  went  out 
for  breakfast,  however, — which,  by  the  way,  we  took  at  the  Astor 
House,  where  Stone  had  registered  and  taken  a  room,  so  as  to  be  near 
his  work  during  this  pressure, — he  told  me  to  lie  down  and  sleep  until 
noon.  Then  he  said  he  would  have  to  dictate  for  about  two  hours  to  a 
stenographer  who  understood  Spanish,  and  would  then  get  a  lunch  and 
sleep  until  six,  when  he  would  come  on  again  and  let  me  off  until  ten. 
He  was  very  anxious  that  one  of  us  should  be  present  all  the  time,  so 
that  the  work,  which  was  then  assuming  tangible  form,  should  not  get 
confused  or  any  serious  mistakes  occur. 

I  had  only  a  dim  idea  of  the  matter  which  the  firm  had  entrusted 
to  this  man's  hands  in  preference  to  their  own  trained  and  tested  sub 
ordinates,  but  I  saw  in  which  direction  my  interests  lay,  and  made  up 
my  mind  to  serve  him  faithfully.  My  task  was  tedious,  but  not  diffi 
cult  ;  I  had  only  to  keep  run  of  the  paging  in  each  volume  and  see 
that  nothing  was  omitted.  All  were  specially  instructed  to  keep  the 
matter  a  profound  secret.  Our  force  of  copyists  was  divided  into  two 
relays,  who  worked  and  slept  turn  and  turn  about  for  two  days.  When 
I  came  on  duty  at  ten  o'clock  the  second  night,  Mr.  Stone  was  in  high 
feather.  Everything  seemed  to  have  passed  off  to  his  satisfaction,  and 
the  work  was  rapidly  approaching  completion.  In  fact,  the  copying 
was  all  done,  but  there  were  several  hundred  pages  of  manuscript  to  be 
read,  compared,  amended,  and  arranged.  This,  as  every  one  knows 
who  has  had  anything  to  do  with  preparing  legal  documents,  is  no  slight 
task. 

"  It  must  be  done,  Mr.  Fountain  "  said  he,  "  by  six  o'clock  to-mor- 
13*  J 


150  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

row  morning,  so  that  I  may  have  time  to  revise  and  correct  it  before 
ten." 

I  assured  him  that  I  would  have  it  ready  at  that  time. 

"  You  will  keep  the  force  here  until  I  come,"  said  Stone,  as  he  was 
preparing  to  leave. 

"  All  of  them?"  I  asked. 

"Yes;  every  man.  There  is  no  knowing  what  change  may  be 
necessary  at  the  last  moment." 

Abundance  of  refreshments  had  been  provided.  Mr.  Swallow 
dropped  in  just  as  Stone  was  leaving,  and  after  a  moment's  conversa 
tion  shook  his  hand  heartily,  in  evident  approval  of  all  that  had  been 
done,  and  wished  him  good  luck  as  he  went  out,  apparently  not  expect 
ing  to  see  him  again  until  the  hearing  was  over.  The  motion  was  to  be 
made  before  a  judge  of  the  Federal  court  in  Denver,  and  there  would  be 
barely  time  for  him  to  reach  that  place  at  the  time  designated  by  start 
ing  the  next  morning. 

This  work  had  gone  on  in  the  inner  recesses  of  the  lawyers'  cham 
bers,  almost  without  showing  in  the  daily  routine  of  the  office.  Mr. 
Bronson  sat  at  his  desk,  not  only  having  nothing  to  do  with  it,  but 
absolutely  ignorant,  apparently,  of  what  was  going  on.  He  left  the 
office  early  in  the  evening,  and  I  was  surprised  to  see  him  come  in  again 
about  midnight.  He  seemed  to  be  under  the  influence  of  liquor,  and 
with  some  asperity  of  manner  invited  me  to  drink  with  him.  Fearing 
to  arouse  his  anger,  I  did  so,  just  after  the  last  line  had  been  copied, 
about  two  o'clock  in  the  morning.  From  what  cause  I  do  not  know, 
but  soon  after  drinking  with  Mr.  Bronson  I  fell  asleep.  \Yhen  I  awoke, 
it  was  almost  six  o'clock.  Mr.  Bronson  had  kindly  arranged  all  the 
folios  and  fastened  them  tpgether  with  a  neat  parchment  cover.  He 
was  very  deft  at  such  things,  and  took  great  pride  in  binding  the 
work  that  went  out  of  our  office.  He  had  arranged  some  machinery 
of  his  own  devising  for  this  purpose.  Now  and  then  some  of  the 
others  tried  to  use  it,  but  he  was  the  only  one  who  could  make  a  neat 
job  with  it. 

Sharp  at  six  o'clock  came  Mr.  Stone,  looking  as  fresh  and  keen  as 
if  he  had  not  been  at  work  about  forty  hours  out  of  the  past  two  days. 
There  was  a  set  look  about  his  mouth  and  a  hard,  cold  light  in  his  eye 
that  alone  showed  the  strain.  He  had  a  small  gripsack,  carried  an 
overcoat  on  his  arm,  and  wore  a  wide-brimmed  soft  felt  hat.  I  thought 
I  had  never  seen  him  look  so  strong  and  brave,  and  for  a  moment  I 


THE  NEW  ARYAN  MINE  vs.  NOBLES.  151 

almost  forgot  that  he  was  not  exactly  a  gentleman.  He  seemed  much 
pleased  at  the  conclusion  of  the  work,  ran  it  through  carefully  for  a 
few  pages,  then  suddenly  started,  dropped  the  roll  of  papers  from  his 
hand,  pulled  out  his  watch,  and  exclaimed, 

"  I  had  forgotten  that !" 

We  were  all  surprised,  and  Mr.  Bronson  pressed  forward,  even 
more  curious  than  the  rest,  and  said  with  a  strange  earnestness,  I 
thought,  considering  the  fact  that  he  had  not  been  consulted  in  the 
matter  at  all, 

"  Can  I  be  of  any  assistance  to  you,  Mr.  Stone  ?" 

Stone  had  dropped  into  his  seat,  seized  a  pen,  and  was  writing  as 
if  life  and  death  depended  on  it.  He  dashed  off  three  or  four  lines, 
thrust  the  sheet  into  an  envelope  which  he  did  not  take  time  to  seal, 
and,  directing  it  to  Mr.  Swallow,  put  it  into  Mr.  Bronson's  hand  and 
said, 

"Yes,  Bronson,  you  can.  Take  that  to  Mr.  Swallow  without  a 
minute's  delay.  It  is  of  great  importance  that  he  should  have  it  at 
once,  and  he  may  wish  to  give  verbal  instructions  or  need  some  one  he 
can  rely  upon  to  act  for  him." 

I  have  seen  that  letter  since.     It  read  : 

"  Steamer  for  Aspinwall  sails  at  nine.  I  have  to  go  the  other  way. 
If  you  cannot  take  the  trip,  you  had  better  give  Bronson  instructions 
and  send  him.  It  needs  some  one  whom  you  can  trust  implicitly.  We 
must  have  amended  conveyance  from  Muniez  before  the  enemy  get  hold 
of  him.  Hastily, 

"  STONE." 

Mr.  Bronson  hesitated,  but  a  glance  at  the  unsealed  letter  seemed  to 
decide  him,  and  he  was  inside  his  overcoat  and  out  of  the  door  almost 
before  one  could  count  ten.  He  had  hardly  been  gone  a  second  before 
Mr.  Stone  beckoned  me  to  him  and  whispered, 

"  Go  and  tell  one  of  the  policemen  you  will  find  at  the  door  to  stay 
upon  the  landing  outside  and  not  let  any  one  leave  these  rooms  without 
my  permission,  and  allow  no  one  to  enter  except  Mr.  Swallow  and  those 
he  may  bring.  Ask  the  other  to  come  here." 

I  was  very  much  surprised,  but  did  as  he  directed.  When  I 
returned  with  the  policeman,  I  found  Mr.  Stone  questioning  one  of 
the  clerks  as  if  he  had  been  a  culprit. 


152  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

"  You  copied  this  affidavit,  Mr.  Johnson  ?"  he  asked,  in  a  tone  that 
showed  suppressed  excitement. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  answered  Johnson,  almost  insolently. 

"  And  after  you  had  copied  it  you  gave  the  original  to  whom  ?" 

"  To  Mr.  Fountain,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Before  handing  it  to  Mr.  Fountain  you  took  a  press  copy  of  it,  I 
suppose  ?" 

"  I  had  no  such  instructions." 

"I  suppose  you  took  an  impression  of  it,  then,  Mr.. Fountain?"  he 
asked. 

"  No,  indeed,"  I  replied.  "  I  was  especially  instructed  to  keep  the 
originals  and  the  verified  copies  separate,  and  to  incorporate  the  former 
only  in  the  record." 

"  You  must  at  least  have  shown  the  original  to  some  one  else — 
some  fellow-clerk — while  you  were  engaged  upon  it?"  he  asked  of 
the  copyist. 

Johnson  shook  his  head. 

"  How,  then,"  exclaimed  Stone,  tearing  a  sheet  out  of  the  record  and 
shaking  it  in  Johnson's  face, — "  how,  then,  is  it  that  the  original  has 
been  abstracted  and  a  fac-simile  of  this  affidavit  substituted  here  ?" 

"I — I — didn't  know.  I — I — "  stammered  Johnson,  with  a  face 
pale  as  ashes. 

"  Did  you  steal  it  yourself  or  only  permit  another  to  take  it  ?"  asked 
Stone,  in  a  voice  that  sent  a  chill  through  my  veins  as  if  I  had  been 
the  thief  myself.  At  the  same  time  the  policeman  took  a  step  or  two 
towards  Johnson,  as  if  to  have  him  in  reach  should  it  be  necessary  to 
take  him  into  custody. 

"  Is  it — do  you  mean — has — ah — "  stammered  Johnson. 

"  Answer  !"  said  Stone,  and  his  eyes  flashed  fire.  "  Did  you  take  it 
yourself  or  assist  another  to  purloin  it  ?" 

"  I  handed  it  to — to  Mr.  Bronson,"  said  the  terrified  copyist. 

"  To  Mr.  Bronson,  eh  ?     For  what  purpose  ?" 

"  He  is  the  chief  clerk,  sir." 

"  So  that  was  the  pretence  under  which  he  made  you  an  accomplice 
in  his  crime?" 

" i  Crime  M"  exclaimed  Johnson. 

"  Yes,  sir,  crime,"  repeated  Stone.  "  Every  original  has  been  stolen 
from  these  papers  and  a  copy  substituted.  Did  the  other  clerks  hand 
their  work  to  Mr.  Bronson  also?" 


THE  NEW  AEYAN  MINE  vs.  NOBLES.  153 

"  Some  of  them  did.  You  see,  we  thought  he  was  being  badly 
used,  having  important  papers  made  out  here  without  his  knowledge, 
and  he  in  a  sense  responsible,  too,  for  the  business  of  the  office/'  said 
Johnson,  stoutty. 

"  In  other  words,  you  thought  you  were  in  Mr.  Bronson's  employ 
instead  of  Gauge  &  Swallow's  ?" 

"  Well,  it  does  look  so,  though  I  am  sure  I  never  put  it  in  that  way 
to  myself,"  said  Johnson,  confusedly. 

"  Very  well ;  you  may  take  him  into  custody,  officer/'  said  Mr. 
Stone,  carelessly. 

Johnson  seemed  thunderstruck. 

"  I  have  a  wife  and  family — "  he  began. 

"  All  the  more  reason  why  you  should  have  been  an  honest  man/' 
interrupted  Stone,  with  a  face  as  hard  as  that  of  the  Sphinx. 

The  policeman  led  Johnson  across  the  room,  and  they  stood  together 
at  one  of  the  windows  while  I  aroused  and  brought  in  the  other  clerks  who 
had  been  engaged  on  the  special  work,  one  after  the  other.  Each  was 
confronted  with  his  own  simulated  work,  but  each  pleaded  a  lack  of  all 
knowledge  of  the  chief  clerk's  intentions.  An  office-boy  who  had  slept 
in  the  building  on  the  chance  of  being  wanted  to  go  of  errands  in 
the  morning  remarked  that  Mr.  Bronson  had  kept  him  running  back  and 
forth  from  an  establishment  around  the  corner  that  did  work  of  the  char 
acter  known  as  photo-lithographic  almost  the  whole  of  the  previous  day. 

"Ah  !  I  see,"  mused  Stone.  "  While  pretending  to  scrutinize  the 
work,  he  has  had  the  originals  photographed,  and  left  us  the  copies." 

"  But  where  are  the  originals  ?"  I  asked. 

"  That  we  shall  know  when  Mr.  Bronson  comes  in,"  he  replied. 

The  clerks,  having  told  all  they  knew  of  the  matter,  were  chatting 
in  little  groups  about  the  room,  the  policeman  having  them  in  charge 
standing  near  the  door.  I  was  completely  palsied  with  apprehension 
and  amazement.  That  any  one  should  presume  to  steal  a  paper  from 
the  office  of  Gauge  &  Swallow  was  to  me  a  thing  incredible.  Mr. 
Stone  was  the  only  one  who  seemed  quite  undisturbed  He  sat  at  his 
desk,  looking  through  the  fictitious  record  page  by  page,  as  coolly  as 
if  he  had  anticipated  the  very  thing  that  had  happened. 

It  was  half-past  seven  when  Mr.  Swallow  arrived,  and  with  him 
Mr.  Bronson.  The  chief  clerk's  face  was  as  pale  as  ashes.  He  glanced 
quickly  about  the  room,  as  if  to  read  in  our  frightened  faces  how  much 
was  known  of  his  own  breach  of  trust. 

G* 


154  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

"  Hello !"  cried  Mr.  Swallow,  looking  from  the  policeman  to  the 
clerks  and  addressing  Stone,  whom  he  seemed  to  regard  as  the  one  re 
sponsible  for  everything.  "What  does  all  this  mean?  A  policeman  on 
the  landing,  another  in  the  office,  and  our  clerks  looking  as  if  they  had 
been  convicted  of  grand  larceny  I" 

"  Mr.  Fountain  will  tell  you,"  said  Mr.  Stone,  "  I  must  have  a  few 
words  with  Bronson  :  I  will  be  back  in  a  moment."  • 

He  nodded  to  Bronson,  and  they  went  into  one  of  the  private  rooms 
at  the  back  of  the  main  office.  They  were  absent  a  good  while, — at 
least,  I  thought  so,  for  I  found  it  quite  impossible  to  give  Mr.  Swallow 
an  intelligent  account  of  what  had  happened.  Indeed,  I  did  not  know 
what  had  happened,  and  so  was  unable  even  to  answer  his  excited  ques 
tions.  After  a  time,  ho\vever,  Stone  returned,  and  Mr.  Swallow  began 
to  catechise  him,  very  greatly  to  my  relief. 

"  Now,  what  does  all  this  mean  ?"  he  asked,  excitedly,  though  he 
spoke  with  a  self-control  which  I  could  not  but  admire,  since  it  was 
evident  that  he  had  no  previous  hint  of  what  had  taken  place. 

"Nothing  that  cannot  easily  be  remedied,"  replied  Stone,  coolly 
consulting  his  watch.  "  Come  into  Mr.  Gauge's  room,  if  you  please, 
and  we  will  talk  it  over. — You  may  as  well  come  with  us,  Mr.  Foun 
tain,"  he  said,  politely  enough,  but  carelessly. 

"  Now,  then,  what  is  it  ?"  asked  Mr.  Swallow,  peremptorily,  as  he 
sat  down  at  Mr.  Gauge's  desk  and  looked  up  at  Stone. 

"  Well,"  said  the  latter,  quietly,  "  you  know  that  in  the  matter  I 
have  in  hand  the  utmost  secrecy  is  necessary." 

"  Certainly, — as  in  everything  else  that  is  done  about  this  office." 
Mr.  Swallow  spoke  somewhat  pompously. 

"  Of  course,"  assented  Stone.  "  A  lawyer  who  is  not  certain  of  the 
fidelity  of  his  clerks  is  likely  to  be  crippled  at  any  moment  in  his  most 
important  case." 

"  Well,  you  haven't  found  any  leaky  vessels  in  our  office,  I  hope  ?" 

"  That  is  just  what  I  have  found,"  said  Stone,  with  what  seemed  to 
me  very  ill-timed  jocularity. 

"  You  don't  say  !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Swallow,  relapsing,  in  his  surprise, 
into  the  vernacular  of  his  boyhood, — a  thing,  by  the  way,  that  every 
one  does  under  the  influence  of  strong  emotion. 

"  Yes,"  was  the  reply.  "  I  suspected  it  before  I  began  actual  work 
in  the  New  Aryan  Silver  Mine  matter,  and  laid  my  plans  to  avoid  its 
consequences,  knowing  that  we  might  lose  a  great  advantage  by  the  dis- 


THE  NEW  ARYAN  MINE  vs.  NOBLES.  155 

closure  of  the  ground  of  our  claim  before  we  had  secured  all  the  evidence 
required  to  sustain  it." 

"  Whom  did  you  suspect  ?" 

"  Mr.  Bronson." 

"  What !  our  chief  clerk  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  Why,  he  has  been  in  our  employ  for  fifteen  years !  What  led  you 
to  suspect  him  ?" 

"  I  remembered  your  surprise  at  the  fact  that  our  opponents  were  so 
thoroughly  informed  as  to  our  plans  in  the  case  of  Lipando  vs.  Orcutt." 

"  Yes.     That  was  provoking, — not  to  say  unfortunate." 

"  You  may  recollect  that  I  prepared  the  papers  in  that  case  ?" 

"  Yes.  There  was  so  much  knowledge  of  Spanish  law  and  Mexican 
grants  required  that  really  I  do  not  know  how  we  should  have  got  along 
without  your  help." 

Mr.  Swallow  spoke  in  a  half-apologetic  tone  which  surprised  me, 
considering  the  fact  that  he  was  addressing  a  subordinate. 

Mr.  Stone  did  not  seem  at  all  elated,  but  answered  quietly : 

"  Oh,  that  was  nothing ;  but  I  happened  to  know  that  no  one  except 
Mr.  Bronson  and  myself  and  one  other  touched  those  papers  until  they 
came  into  your  hands.  Now,  a  good  part  of  the  information  which 
our  opponents  had  at  their  finger-ends  could  only  have  been  obtained 
from  the  papers  or  from  one  of  those  three  persons.  I  had  never  seen 
Bronson.  Of  course  I  knew  Gauge  &  Swallow  would  not  leak,  and  I 
felt  tolerably  sure  of  myself, — in  that  case,  at  least."" 

"  I  should  think  so  !"  interrupted  Swallow,  with  a  look  of  queer 
intelligence.  "  But  you  forget  the  stenographer." 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  Stone,  with  a  smile.  "  I  would  answer  for  the 
stenographer  with  my  life." 

"  So  you  always  said,"  rejoined  Swallow, — a  little  incredulously,  I 
thought. 

"  Yes,"  said  Stone,  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye ;  "  I  was  as  sure  of 
her  trustworthiness  as  you  were  of  your  chief  clerk,  and  with  a  great 
deal  better  reason." 

"  How  so  ?"  asked  the  Junior. 

"  Because  she  is  my  wife,"  answered  Stone. 

"  What !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Swallow,  jumping  from  his  seat.  "  You 
don't  mean  to  tell  me  that — that  Mrs.  — " 

"  Oh  yes,"  laughed  Stone,  interrupting  him ;  "  Mrs.  Stone  is  a  pretty 


156  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

fair  stenographer,  and  an  exceptionally  good  type-writer,  as  you  know. 
Besides,  she  understands  Spanish  very  well." 

Somehow,  there  seemed  a  peculiar  significance  in  his  tone  that  I 
have  never  been  able  to  account  for. 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Swallow,  with  curious  good-nature,  "  so  you  laid 
a  trap  for  Bronson  with  the  aid  of  the  stenographer  ?" 

"  With  the  aid  of  the  whole  office,  rather,"  said  Stone,  jocosely. 
"  You  see,  I  told  Gauge  my  suspicions,  and  he  said  if  I  could  get  that 
fellow  to  put  his  head  into  a  sling  I  would  do  Gauge  &  Swallow  a  great 
favor." 

"  So  Gauge  was  an  accomplice  ?"  said  Mr.  Swallow,  drawing  down 
his  brows.  "He  always  hated  Bronson, — probably  because  I  liked 
him." 

"  I  think  you  do  Mr.  Gauge  injustice  there.  He  merely  thinks  he 
has  to  be  a  little  suspicious,  to  overbalance  your  trustfulness." 

"  Probably  that  is  so,"  responded  Mr.  Swallow,  laughing.  "  Well, 
you  caught  him  ?" 

"  Yes,  we  caught  him." 

"  Giving  information  to  the  enemy  ?" 

"Worse  than  that." 

"How  worse?" 

"  Falsifying  the  record." 

"No?" 

"  Do  you  see  those  affidavits  ?"  handing  him  the  volume. 

"Yes." 

"They  purport  to  be  originals?" 

"  Well,  so  they  are." 

"They  are  not  copies, — that  is,  they  have  not  been  copied  by 
hand." 

"  Well,  they  are  originals,  then,  are  they  not?" 

"  Hardly.  They  are  fac-similes,  made  by  what  is  known  as  the 
photo-engraving  process." 

"  The  devil  !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Swallow.  He  did  not  often  use  such 
language,  but  you  must  admit  that  he  had  some  excuse  at  that  time. 
He  examined  the  affidavits  carefully,  and  could  not  deny  what  Mr. 
Stone  had  said.  "How  did  he  do  it?" 

"  Well,  it  was  a  shrewd  thing,"  said  Stone.  "  You  know  the  papers 
were  each  in  his  hand  but  a  short  time.  He  made  arrangements  with  a 
firm  in  the  next  street  to  photograph  the  pages  whenever  sent  to  them, 


THE  NEW  ARYAN  MINE  vs.  NOBLES.  157 

and  furnish  him  the  fac-simile  proofs  from  gelatin-blocks  without  delay. 
I  only  found  it  out  this  morning  after  I  sent  him  to  summon  you." 

"  Why,  confound  the  scoundrel !"  said  Swallow.  "  This  is  a  crime  ! 
Where  is  the  rascal  ?  I  will  put  him  in  the  penitentiary. — Call  the 
policeman,  Mr.  Fountain." 

I  started  to  do  so,  but  Stone  put  his  hand  on  my  shoulder  and  said, 
quite  in  a  voice  of  authority,  you  know  : 

"  I  think,  Mr.  Swallow,  you  had  better  consider  this  matter  a 
while." 

"  '  Consider ' !"  ejaculated  Swallow.  "  Do  you  mean  that  I  should 
let  a  rascal  off  who  has  not  only  disgraced  the  office,  but  betrayed  our 
confidence  and  violated  the  law?" 

"  Unquestionably,"  said  Stone,  "  he  has  acted  very  badly.  He,  no 
doubt,  expected  to  receive  money  for  betraying  our  case  and  causing 
our  application  to  fail  for  lack  of  the  original  affidavits." 

"  Why,  so  it  would,"  said  Swallow.  "  I  had  not  thought  of  that. 
What  an  infernal  scoundrel  he  is  !  Where  is  he  ?" 

Stone  took  out  his  watch — it  was  always  a  matter  of  surprise  to  me 
how  he  could  afford  to  wear  such  a  fine  one — and  laughed  quite  gayly 
as  he  said, 

"  Mr.  Bronson  started  down  the  bay  on  the  Aspinwall  steamer  about 
half  an  hour  ago." 

"  What !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Swallow;  "you  let  him  get  away?" 

"  Well,  you  ;see,"  said  Stone,  quietly,  "  I  thought  if  we  could  get 
rid  of  him  for  six  months  or  a  year,  and  punish  him  at  the  same  time, 
it  was  better  than  to  have  him  remain,  even  if  you  were  able  to  send 
him  to  Sing  Sing." 

^  I  do  not  understand  you,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Swallow,  rather  haughtily. 
"  Did  you  suppose  I  would  allow  him  to  go  scot-free, — without  pros 
ecution  ?" 

"Certainly." 

"Then  you  will  find  yourself  mistaken." 

Mr.^Swallow  turned  his  back  upon  the  quiet  man  who  stood  lean 
ing  against  the  table  as  unconcerned  as  if  the  great  firm  of  Gauge  & 
Swallow  were  not  going  through  a  crisis  which  might  be  fatal.  I  must 
confess  I  thought  he  had  assumed  altogether  too  much  responsibility, 
and  I  expected  him  to  be  quite  overcome  by  Mr.  Swallow's  anger. 
It  did  not  seem  to  discompose  him  in  the  least,  however;  he  merely 
said,  in  a  tone  of  quiet  amusement. 
14 


158  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

"  See  here,  Swallow :  don't  you  think  you  are  making  an  ass  of 
yourself?" 

I  could  hardly  believe  my  ears,  and  looked  for  Mr.  Swallow  to 
overwhelm  him  with  his  wrath.  Nothing  of  the  kind  occurred,  how 
ever.  The  Junior  turned  back  and  said,  quietly  enough, 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Mr. " 

"  Stone/7  interjected  the  other,  with  a  twinkle. 

"  Ah  yes  !  Mr.  Stone,"  said  the  Junior,  apologetically.  "  What 
do  you  mean  by  allowing  this  man  to  get  away, — I  may  say,  helping 
him  to  get  off?  for  you  did  help  him,  didn't  you?'7 

"  Certainly,"  was  the  cool  reply. 

" I  didn't  expect  it, — from  you"  said  Mr.  Swallow,  with  feeling. 

"  See  here,  Swallow,"  responded  the  other,  with  what  I  thought  a 
most  unbecoming  familiarity  :  "  do  you  suppose  I  could  do  you  an  ill 
turn?" 

"  I  should  not  have  expected  it,"  answered  the  Junior,  sullenly. 

"  Of  course  not,"  said  the  other.  "  Now,  you  have  a  very  valuable 
practice — " 

"  Indeed  !"  interrupted  Mr.  Swallow,  mockingly.  "  Did  you  think 
it  wn.s  getting  too  large  ?" 

"  Confound  your  suspicions  !"  said  Stone,  flushing  hotly.  ''  You 
don't  deserve  to  have  one  do  you  a  kindness." 

"Do  you  call  shielding  a  scoundrel  kindness  to  those  he  has 
wronged  ?" 

"I  call  uncovering  an  enemy  who  would  have  been  certain  to  destroy 
you,  a  kindness,"  answered  Stone,  angrily. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  Do  you  think  Gauge  &  Swallow  are  unable 
to  deal  with  such  vermin  ?"  asked  the  Junior,  sternly. 

"  What  is  the  business  of  your  firm  based  on,  Mr.  Swallow  ?" 

".I  had — weakly,  perhaps— supposed  that  the  ability  of  the  partners 
had  something  to  do  with  it,"  answered  Mr.  Swallow,  with  a  sneer. 

"Ability  had  much  to  do  with  building  it  up,  no  doubt,"  said 
Stone,  respectfully,  "  but  it  needs  something  more  than  ability  to  hold 
it." 

"And  what  might  that  be?"  asked  Mr.  Swallow,  still  sneering. 

"  Confidence,"  said  the  other,  quietly, — "  confidence  not  merely  in 
the  capacity  of  the  partners,  but  the  reliability  of  the  firm." 

"  Of  course,"  assented  Mr.  Swallow,  wonderingly. 

"  Confidence,"  continued  Stone,  "  not  only  in  the  integrity  of  the 


THE  NEW  ARYAN  MINE  vs.  NOBLES.  159 

partners,  but  also  in  the  trustworthiness  of  its  employes.  How  many 
of  the  men  whose  names  are  on  the  boxes  in  your  vault  yonder  would 
send  their  business  here,  do  you  think,  if  they  knew  there  was  a  leak 
in  this  office  ?" 

"  My  God  !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Swallow,  all  in  a  tremble.  I  thought 
he  was  going  to  faint ;  but  when  I  begged  him  not  to  do  so,  he  only 
told  me  to  go  to  a  place  I  do  not  like  to  hear  mentioned  out  of  the  pul 
pit.  "  My  God  !"  he  repeated.  "  It  is  sure  to  get  out,  and  it  will  ruin 
us, — ruin  us  !"  he  repeated,  piteously. 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  Stone  as  coolly  as  if  nothing  had  happened. 
"  Mr.  Bronson  will  not  get  back  for  some  little  time." 

"  But  he  has  all  the  originals  in  the  case,  don't  you  see  ?"  said 
Mr.  Swallow.  "  Our  application  will  fail  and  the  matter  will  all 
come  out." 

"  He  has  the  originals  in  one,  it  is  true,"  said  Stone,  laughing ;  "  but 
they  will  not  do  him  any  good  nor  us  any  harm." 

"  Why  not?" 

"  They  were  made  on  purpose  for  him  to  steal." 

"  I  do  not  understand." 

"  Well,"  said  Stone,  "  I  was  so  sure  of  his  treachery  that  after  I  had 
done  the  real  work  of  the  case  elsewhere  I  invented  this  one  for  his 
benefit,  and  kept  a  considerable  force  engaged  on  it  in  order  that  he 
should  not  suspect  me." 

"What?  How?  You  made  up  this  case?"  said  Swallow,  pick 
ing  up  the  record  and  glancing  through  it. 

"Exactly, — all  except  the  complaint,  which  is  public  property 
already." 

"  And  these  affidavits  and  schedules,  abstracts  of  titles  and  genea 
logical  trees  ?" 

"  All  fanciful,  sir,"  said  Stone.  He  leaned  against  the  door  and 
laughed  loud  enough  to  have  been  heard  in  Broadway  had  it  not  been 
for  the  tide  of  traffic  that  was  just  beginning  to  pour  through  the  streets. 

"  'All  fanciful '  ?"  exclaimed  Swallow,  in  surprise. 

"  Yes, — made  expressly  for  Bronson's  use." 

"  And  the  real  record  in  the  case  ?" 

"  Oh,  my  wife  and  I  got  that  ready  a  week  ago.  It  was  the  one 
*ou  signed  last  night." 

"  Arid  this,  then — is — entirely  fictitious  ?" 

"Absolutely!" 


160  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

"  By  George,  Par — I  mean — er — Stone,  you  are  a  brick  !  Hanged 
if  I  ever  question  anything  you  do  again.  Who  but  you  would  have 
thought  of  working  up  a  fictitious  case  in  order  to  catch  a  traitor?  But 
what  makes  you  think  he  will  be  gone  so  long  ?" 

"  Well,  you  see,  I  found  it  convenient,  in  the  exercise  of  a  proper 
legal  imagination,  to  create  a  certain  fictitious  personage — one  Hernandez 
Muuiez — whom  Bronson  supposes  to  be  a  resident  of  Guatemala  and 
one  of  the  original  owners  of  the  New  Aryan.  He  will  attempt  to  find 
this  man  and  induce  him  to  refuse  to  confirm  a  certain  defective  con 
veyance  which  he  supposes  the  said  Muniez  to  have  made  many  years 
ago  to  our  clients." 

"  And  this  man  Muniez  ?" 

"  Is  a  myth." 

"  And  why  do  you  think  Bronson  will  seek  for  him  ?" 

"He  knows,  of  course,  that  the  jig  is  up  with  him  here.  Not  only 
has  he  lost  his  place  with  you,  but  Gauge  &  Swallow  would  naturally 
be  inclined  to  prevent  his  getting  a  foothold  elsewhere.  His  only  chance 
is  either  to  compel  us  to  buy  him  up  or  appeal  for  mercy.  I  let  him 
know,  after  you  came,  that  his  duplicity  had  been  discovered,  and  inti 
mated  that  he  might  find  himself  surveying  the  world  through  a  grating. 
When  I  left  the  room,  I  told  the  policeman  to  let  him  pass,  but  not  lose 
sight  of  him.  Meanwhile,  I  brought  you  in  here  to  prevent  you  from 
interrupting  his  flight.  He  had  evidently  read  the  note  I  sent  you  ;  I 
expected  he  would.  Twenty  minutes  after,  the  policeman  reported  that 
he  had  boarded  the  steamer  Colon  of  the  Pacific  Mail  Line.  Seeing  a 
chance  to  get  himself  out  of  a  scrape  and  do  a  stroke  of  business,  as  he 
thought,  at  the  same  time,  he  was  not  slow  to  take  advantage  of  the 
opportunity  he  supposed  I  had  unintentionally  given  him.  The  next 
we  hear  of  him,  I  presume,  will  be  when  he  turns  up,  some  months 
hence,  with  a  forged  conveyance  which  he  will  bring  to  me  for  sale. 
Just  at  this  moment  he  is,  probably,  beginning  to  feel  the  qualms  of 
remorse,  enhanced  by  seasickness." 

The  idea  was  so  ludicrous  and  the  relief  he  experienced  so  great 
that  Mr.  Swallow  sat  down  and  laughed  until  the  tears  came  into  his 
eyes.  After  a  while  he  recovered  his  usual  dignity,  and  said, 

"  Well,  by  Jove,  you  have  done  the  thing  well,  especially  that  ste 
nographer  business.  I  shall  have  to  give  the  little  lady  my  congratu 
lations  in  person." 

"  She  will  be  glad  to  see  you  again,"  said  Stone  as  coolly  as  if  his 


THE  NEW  ARYAN  MINE  vs.  NOBLES.  161 

employer  moved  in  the  same  sphere  as  himself  and  wife  and  was  one  of 
their  familiar  friends. 

"  Well,  I  shall  come/7  responded  Swallow,  in  the  same  tone.  "But 
now  about  the  clerks  who  played  into  Bronson's  hands.  They  must  be 
discharged,  of  course  ?" 

"  I  should  not  so  advise,"  said  Stone,  carelessly. 

"No?     What,  then?" 

"  I  should  say  it  would  be  better  to  call  them  in  and  tell  them  they 
had  been  guilty  of  an  indiscretion  that  might  easily  have  wrecked  their 
prospects  with  you ;  that  Mr.  Bronson  has  gone  to  Central  America  on 
urgent  business  connected  with  the  case  ;  that  Mr.  Fountain  will  have 
his  place, — at  least,  until  further  arrangements  are  made ;  and,  in  con 
clusion,  that  the  investigation  that  has  just  been  made  has  demonstrated 
as  fully  as  you  knew  it  would  the  loyalty  of  the  clerks  of  Gauge  & 
Swallow.  Give  those  who  worked  all  night  a  holiday,  and  tell  them 
to  resume  their  duties  to-morrow." 

"  Perhaps  you  are  right,"  said  Swallow,  meditatively.  "  And  what 
shall  I  say  about  you  ?" 

"Me?"  asked  Stone,  smiling.  "Oh,  ask  them  to  dine  with  me  at 
Delmonico's  to-night, — a  farewell  dinner  before  I  leave  for  Colorado, 
you  know." 

"'All  right,"  said  Swallow,  laughing.  He  rose  and  shook  the 
other's  hand  with  a  heartiness  that  gave  emphasis  to  his  words. 

And,  sure  enough,  he  did  just  as  Stone  advised.  His  speech  to  the 
clerks  was  equal  to  anything  he  ever  did  in  court. 

I  took  Mr.  Bronson's  desk  and  kept  it  until  I  was  made  the  regular 
representative  of  the  firm  for  motions  and  routine  business  in  the  courts 
generally.  Then  Mr.  Barnes,  our  real-estate  clerk,  took  the  chief  clerk 
ship  in  addition  to  his  other  duties. 

What  ?  The  dinner  ?  Oh  yes  !  We  had  one — quite  a  swell  affair, 
too, — in  a  way,  that  is.  Every  one  in  the  office  had  a  plate,  and  things 
went  off  in  good  style.  He  was  a  strange  man,  that  fellow  Stone, — a 
very  strange  man.  I  have  sometimes  thought  he  must  have  been  a 
bigger  man  all  around  than  we  took  him  for. 

What  became  of  him  ?  Really,  I  don't  know.  I  have  never  seen 
or  heard  of  him  since  that  night.  He  intimated  that  he  was  going  into 
business  for  himself, — somewhere  out  West,  I  believe, — and  I  supposed 
he  would  remember  us  when  he  had  anything  requiring  attention  in  the 
city.  I  looked  for  him  to  have  such  cases,  too  :  he  was  a  man  to  have 


162  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

confidence  in.  I  do  not  think  I  ever  knew  a  lawyer  I  would  sooner 
trust  with  an  important  suit.  He  was  a  strong,  cool-headed  man, — not 
so  cultured  as  one  could  have  wished,  a  trifle  Western-like  and  raw,  if  I 
may  say  so,  in  a  social  and  worldly  sense.  I  asked  Mr.  Swallow  about 
him  once,  but  did  not  like  the  way  he  answered,  and  so  never  inquired 
further.  What  did  he  say  ?  Oh,  he  asked  me  to  repeat  my  question 
first ;  then  gave  one  of  those  exasperating  chuckles,  and  said  he  didn't 
know  :  he  hadn't  heard  from  Par — er — Stone,  he  meant — for  a  long 
time,  nor  from  his  pretty  stenographer,  either.  Then  he  chuckled  again. 
I  saw  he  was  making  game  of  me,  and  made  no  reply. 

Did  they  win  the  case  ?  What  case  ?  Oh,  the  New  Aryan  Mine 
vs.  Nobles.  You  mean  did  we  win  it, — Gauge  &  Swallow  ?  You 
haven't  heard  of  our  fee,  then, — a  hundred  thousand,  dollars,  all  in 
silver  bars?  Yes,  I  think  we  gained  it.  Big  concern,  that  New 
Aryan, — one  of  the  richest  silver-mines  ever  known.  Yes,  they  re 
membered  the  chief  clerk  too.  There  is  what  the  company  sent  me, — 
one  of  Jurgensen's  best  chronometer  movements,  in  a  hundred-dollar 
case.  And  really  I  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  action.  They  only 
knew  that  I  was  the  chief  clerk.  I  wonder  what  Stone  got  ?  They 
ought  to  have  given  him  enough  to  set  him  up  in  a  good  practice,  for 
he  really  did  all  the  work.  Has  Bronson  ever  returned  ?  Yes,  and, 
queer  enough,  is  some  sort  of  an  agent  for  the  New  Aryan  Company. 
Who  is  the  president  of  the  New  Aryan?  Why,  Parmlee, — E.  S. 
Parmlee.  What  did  you  say?  Eber  Stone  Parmlee,  the  great  mining 
lawyer  ?  What  an  ass  I  was,  not  to  suspect  it !  Well,  I  felt  all  the 
time  that  he  was  no  common  man. 


VII L 

A    CONFLICT  BETWEEN  CHURCH  AND  STATE. 

"  TTIN  I  git  ter  see  Mr.  Swaller  ?" 

_t\_  This  inquiry  came  from  a  tall,  lean  man,  clad  in  wool  jeans 
and  carrying  a  wide,  soft-brimmed  hat  in  his  hand  which  rested  on  the 
railing  by  my  desk.  His  face  had  a  curious  pinched  expression,  and 
the  tobacco  he  was  masticating  had  left  a  yellowish  stain  about  the 
corners  of  his  mouth  and  in  the  dull-grayish  beard  that  straggled  over 
his  face.  He  had  a  subdued,  almost  furtive  look,  though  his  blue  eyes 
were  not  without  a  gleam  of  shrewdness.  He  had  wandered  in  and 
come  to  a  halt  near  my  desk,  apparently  because  no  one  opposed  his 
progress,  asked  him  any  questions,  or  seemed  likely  to  do  so. 

"What  is  the  name,  sir?"  I  asked,  smartly. 

"  'Tain't  no  matter  'bout  the  name,"  he  answered.  "  The  Gunnel 
never  seed  me,  ner  hearn  tell  o'  me  nuther,  I  don't  s'pose.  Ef  I  could 
jes'  see  him  a  minit  'twould  be  all  I'd  keer  fer." 

"If  you  will  tell  me  your  business,"  I  said,  patronizingly,  "  I  will 
ascertain  if  he  is  able  to  see  you.  He  is  a  very  busy  man." 

"  So  I  s'pose,"  said  the  stranger,  deliberately  expectorating  on  the 
carpet.  "An'  that's  jes'  what  I  was  afeerd  on.  I  tole  Biah  there 
wa'n't  no  sort  uv  use  er  try  in'  ter  git  one  o'  these  high-fly  in'  New- 
Yawkers  ter  so  much  ez  look  at  his  case.  I  reckon  he  must  make  a 
heap  uv  money,"  he  added,  inquiringly,  as  he  glanced  sharply  about 
the  office. 

"  Gauge  &  Swallow  are  pretty  high-priced,"  I  answered,  feeling  to 
the  full  the  reflected  glory  of  my  employers'  position. 

"  Wouldn't  look  at  a  case  under  a  thousan'  dollars,  I  reckon." 

"  They  are  not  apt  to  engage  in  unremunerative  labor."  I  smiled 
as  I  wondered  what  he  would  think  of  some  of  the  fees  they  had 
received. 

"  Jes'  what  I  tole  Biah,"  said  the  stranger.     "  An'  he  hain't  got  no 

163 


164  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

thousan'  dollars  ter  spare,  ner  I  nuther, — more's  the  pity.  Ef  I  lied, 
Biah  should  hev  it,  kase  he  certin  hev  been  badly  used, — badly  used. 
I  don't  pertend  ter  justify  everythin'  he's  done, — by  no  manner  uv 
means, — "  the  man  expectorated  with  judicial  severity  and  effusiveness 
before  proceeding, — "  but  when  a  man  hev  repented  an'  done  all  that 
lay  in  his  power  ter  comply  with  the  laws  uv  God  an'  man,  then  ter 
jump  on  him  an'  tromp  him  down  in  the  mire,  jes'  kase  he  happens  ter 
be  pore,  that  ain't  right  ner  jestice.  Is  it,  now,  mister?" 

I  admitted  that  such  conduct  did  not  seem  to  be  exactly  in  conso 
nance  with  the  principles  of  universal  equity. 

"  Edzactly,— 'zaetly.  Wai,  that's  Biah's  case.  Hit  don't  seem 
right,  nohow ;  but  his  lawyer  tells  him  thar  ain't  no  chance  fer  him  ter 
git  clar  'cept  by  an  appeal  er  sunthin'  uv  that  sort  ter  the  Supreme 
Court  et  Washington.  Yer  see,  they  found  Biah  guilty,  the  jury  did ; 
an'  the  jedge  he  stood  by  the  jury ;  an'  the  Supreme  Court  down  ter 
Richmon',  they  stood  by  kirn.  Now,  Lawyer  Perrin  says — an'  he's  a 
right  sharp  sort  uv  a  man,  too — that  there  ain't  no  way  ter  git  out  on't 
'cept  by  appeal  ter  the  Supremest  Court  uv  all  in  Washin'ton.  An'  ez 
thet  'ud  likely  take  'bout  all  he's  got  left,  yer  see,  he  advises  Biah — an' 
I  does  the  same  when  I  hearn  how  'twas — not  ter  make  enny  mo'  fuss . 
'bout  the  matter,  but  jes'  go  'long  an'  sarve  out  his  time  an'  be  done 
with  it.  But  Biah's  sot, — awful  sot,  mister, — an'  he  'lows  he  hain't 
done  no  wrong  in  the  sight  uv  God  ner  man; — in  the  way  he's  accused 
uv,  at  least, — an'  he  ain't  gwine  ter  submit  ter  sech  imposition  jes'  fer 
tryin'  ter  do  what's  right.  So,  he  'lowed  ez  I  should  come  hyer  an' 
see  ef  I  couldn't  git  Mr.  S waller  ter  ondertake  his  case  fer  him  ;  an'  ef 
I  could,  he'd  jes'  carry  hit  on  up  ter  Washin'ton,  ef  it  tuk  the  las'  cent 
he  hed." 

"  Biah  is  your  brother,  I  think  you  said  ?" 

"  Co'sev  co'se  :  what  ud  I  be  here  fer  ef  he  warn't  ?  Biah  Wilkins, 
uv  Pittsylv^any,  suh,  an'  ez  respectable  a  man  ez  ever  lived  in  the 
county,  too,  ef  he  is  pore  an'  in  jail  this  minnit,  ef  they  heven't  tuk 
him  ter  the  State  prison,  though  I  do  say  it  ez  oughtn't,  bein'  his 
brother." 

"  What's  the  cause  of  your  brother's  difficulty  ?" 

"  That's  jes'  what  I  kem  on  ter  tell  Mr.  Swaller,  ef  so  be  ez  I  kin 
git  speech  with  him  fer  a  leetle  while.  An'  Biah  he  sez  ef  I  kin  once 

>it  this  yere  letter  inter  his  hands,  he's  jes'  boun'  ter  see  me,  even  ef  he 
on't  do  nothin'  mo'.     Biah  'lows  't  a  gre't  lawyer  like  Mr.  Swaller's 


A  CONFLICT  BETWEEN  CHURCH  AND  STATE.  165 

boun'  ter  know  a  heap  mo'n  a  little  un  like  Mr.  Perrin,  not  ter  speak 
disrespeckfully  uv  Mr.  Perrin,  who  certain  hev  stuck  by  Biah  like  a 
man." 

He  dropped  his  hat  on  the  floor,  and,  after  some  search,  drew  from 
his  pocket  a  letter,  which  he  held  towards  me. 

"  Oh,  if  you  have  a  letter  of  introduction,  Mr.  Swallow  will  see 
you,  of  course,"  I  replied,  cheerfully.  "  Have  a  seat,  sir,  and  I  will 
take  it  to  him." 

"  Thank  ye :  I  don't  keer  ef  I  do,"  responded  the  stranger,  sinking 
into  the  chair  I  pushed  towards  him  and  drawing  his  hat  carelessly 
beside  him  so  that  the  brim  rested  on  the  rung.  "  Tain't  no  letter  uv 
interduction,  though ;  hit's  one  uv  his, — Mr.  Swaller's,  ye  know, — one 
he  writ  ter  Biah.  Ef  ye'd  jes'  be  kin'  'nuff  ter  han'  it  ter  him  an'  say 
ef  he's  not  too  busy  I'd  like  a  word  with  him." 

His  language  was  apologetic,  but  his  tone  was  confident  rather  than 
supplicating. 

I  took  the  letter,  went  to  Mr.  Swallow's  room,  and  handed  it  to 
him,  stating  the  request  the  stranger  made.  The  Junior  does  not  like 
to  be  interrupted  when  he  is  at  work,  and  he  was  working  very  hard 
that  day  preparing  his  celebrated  argument  in  the  "  Peterhoff  Admiralty 
Case," — in  which  our  fee,  by  the  way,  was  twenty  thousand  dollars,  with 
about  ten  thousand  dollars  more  granted  for  allowances,  disburse 
ments,  etc. 

He  drew  down  his  brows  as  he  took  the  soiled  envelope,  and,  merely 
glancing  at  the  superscription,  drew  forth  the  letter  and  ran  over  its 
contents.  A  single  glance  transformed  him. 

"  Where  is  he  ?  Bring  him  here  !"  he  exclaimed,  excitedly.  "  No, 
I  will  go  with  you.  Time?  I  should  like  to  know  anything  that 
would  prevent  my  having  time  for  Abiah  Wilkins's  affairs  !" 

He  followed  me  out,  and  literally  fell  upon  the  neck  of  the  uncouth 
Southerner,  as  if  he  found  it  impossible  otherwise  to  express-  -Ais  gratifi 
cation. 

"  Why,  Mr.  Wilkins !  what  an  unexpected  pleasure !  I  hardly 
thought,  when  I,  wrote  this  letter  almost  twenty  years  ago,  that  I 
should  ever  have  the  pleasure  of  welcoming  you  to  New  York  and 
personally  showing  my  gratitude  for  your  kindness  to — to " 

Mr.  Swallow  choked  at  the  word,  and,  while  he  wrung  the  stranger's 
hand,  dropped  the  letter,  and,  drawing  forth  his  handkerchief,  began  to 
wipe  away  the  tears  that  were  flowing  down  his  cheeks.  I  looked  OD 


166  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

in  amazement,  and  could  see  that  the  clerks  were  glancing  shyly  towards 
us,  as  surprised  as  I  at  this  display  of  emotion. 

"  Naw,"  said  the  stranger,  disengaging  himself  from  this  embrace, 
"  I'm  'bleeged  to  ye  all  the  same,  Mr.  Swaller,  an'  glad  ter  make  yer 
acquaintance,  but  I  ain't  Biah, — only  his  brother  John.  Ef  I'd  been 
in  his  place,  'bout  them  times,  I  don't  s'pose  ye'd  been  half  ez  glad  ter 
see  me  now.  Not  but  what  he  done  jes'  right,  more  'spechully  ez  things 
turned  out,  but  mcst  on  us  don't  allers  know  jes'  what  is  the  right  thing 
to  do  at  the  time  quite  ez  well  ez  we  do  afterwards.  Biah's  a  pore  man, 
an'  hain't  got  much  larnin' ;  but  he  hez  his  own  notions  'bout  what's 
right,  an'  when  he's  once  made  up  his  mind,  'tain't  noways  easy  ter 
turn  him  from  'em.  That's  why  he's  in  trouble  now." 

"  In  trouble?  If  there  is  anything  I  can  do "  The  Juniors 

tone  told  the  rest. 

"  Ef  it  won't  be  askin'  too  much,  Mr.  Swaller,"  said  the  other, 
hesitantly. 

"  As  if  Abiah  Wilkins  could  ever  ask  too  much  from  me  !" 

"  That's  jes'  what  Biah  said,"  responded  the  other,  with  a  smile  of 
satisfaction.  "  He  'lowed  the  man  ez  writ  that  letter  meant  every  word 
he  said.  I  tole  him  mos'  likely  you'd  forgot " 

"  One  never  forgets  some  things,"  interrupted  Mr.  Swallow,  re 
proachfully. 

"  Wai,  sho'  enuif,"  said  the  countryman,  as  he  picked  up  his  hat  and 
stood  revolving  it  constrainedly  on  the  forefinger  of  his  left  hand.  "  I 
wanted  ye  to  know,  though,  I'm  doin'  this  only  fer  Biah's  sake.  I  hain't 
got  no  right  ter  claim  anythin'  on  my  own  account.  Ef  I'd  hev  known 
what  was  goin'  on  up  ter  the  hill-place,  I  don't  'low  I'd  hev  'proved 
on't,  thet's  the  truth ;  but  Biah  done  it,  an'  now  he's  in  trouble.  I've 
done  all  I  kin  fer  him,  an'  only  jes'  kern  on  hyer  kase  he  'peared  ter  hev 
sot  his  head  on't  thet  you  would  either  holp  him  or  tell  him  'twa'n't  no 
use  ter  try  an'  do  nothin'  mo'." 

"  Well,  come  and  tell  me  all  about  it,"  said  Mr.  Swallow,  putting 
his  hand  almost  affectionately  in  the  arm  of  the  awkward  stranger  and 
leading  him  towards  his  private  room.  His  lashes  were  still  wet  with 
tears,  and  as  the  door  closed  behind  them  every  eye  was  turned  upon 
Burrill  as  the  chartered  depository  of  the  secrets  of  the  firm  ;  but  the  old 
man  only  shook  his  head,  to  intimate  that  his  surprise  was  as  great  as 
ours. 


A   CONFLICT  BETWEEN  CHURCH  AND  STATE.  167 

It  was  as  a  result  of  this  incident  that  I  became  familiar  with  the 
circumstances  of  the  case  entitled 

IN  THE  SUPREME  COUET  OF  THE  UNITED  STATES. 


ABIAH  WILKINS  and  ELENA  WILKINS^ 

\ 


Error  to  the  Supreme  Court  of 
Virginia. 


C 
THE  COMMONWEALTH  OF  VIRGINIA.   ) 

Abiah  Wilkins  was  one  of  those  who  responded  to  the  first  call  of 
the  Confederacy  for  men  to  support  the  claim  of  the  new  republic  to  a 
place  in  the  family  of  nations.  He  was  a  young  man,  hardly  twenty 
years  old,  and  felt  ashamed  to  stay  at  home  while  others  were  in  the 
army  fighting  his  battles.  He  was  one  of  a  class  whom  it  is  the  habit 
of  many  profound  thinkers  to  declare  were  wheedled  or  forced  into  the 
army  of  the  South,  because  we  are  told  that  the  success  of  the  Con 
federacy  would  have  been  inimical  to  their  interests.  If  self-interest 
were  the  only  motives  that  ever  control  the  action  of  peoples,  or  if  the 
measure  of  self-interest  Avere  always  the  same,  and  always  pecuniary 
in  character,  this  conclusion  might  be  accepted  as  a  correct  one.  That 
there  is  some  wreak  point  in  the  reasoning  by  which  it  is  supported, 
however,  is  evident  from  the  fact  that  such  men  composed  the  bulk 
of  the  Confederate  army,  and  that  a  people  can  neither  be  led  nor 
driven  except  in  the  direction  of  their  own  desires.  It  is  no  doubt 
true  that  slavery  was  a  hard  master  to  the  non-slaveholdiug  white 
man  of  the  South  ;  but  it  is  also  true  that  he  did  not  feel  himself  op- 

Eressed,  and  did  not  realize  that  he  was  deprived  of  any  right  or  privi- 
jge.    He  had  just  as  good  an  opportunity  as  his  fellows  ;  and  they  are 
not  the  only  people  who  have  mistaken  equal  opportunity  for  the  ultima 
Thule  of  civic  right. 

Though  Abiah  Wilkins  was  of  what  is  known  as  the  "poor- 
white"  class,  he  was  not  lacking  in  independence  or  knowledge  ojf  his 
own  preferences.  His  father  had  been  a  thrifty  and  capable  overseer, 
whose  services  were  always  in  demand  at  a  good  salary.  Contrary  to 
the  usual  Northern  idea  of  those  in  his  station,  he  was  one  of  the  most 
independent  and  self-respecting  of  men.  Of  profound  religious  con 
viction  and  blameless  life,  he  was  just,  though  severe,  with  those  under 
his  charge,  and  allowed  no  intermeddling  with  his  functions  on  the  part 
of  the  owner  or  any  one  else.  If  at  the  end  of  the  year  the  owner  were 
dissatisfied,  he  could  employ  another  in  his  place  ;  but  during  that  time 


WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

there  was  no  appeal  from  his  judgment,  and  must  be  no  interference 
with  his  plans.  Though  only  a  salaried  foreman,  he  felt  himself  re 
sponsible  for  results,  and  had  a  reputation  which  he  would  not  suffer 
to  be  imperilled  by  limitation  of  his  judgment.  His  boast  was  that 
he  could  "  raise  more  barrels  of  corn  and  a  greater  value  of  tobacco  on 
fewer  acres,  with  less  stock  and  less  labor,  and  leave  the  land,  stock, 
and  '  niggers'  in  better  condition  at  the  end  of  the  year,  than  any  other 
man  on  the  Dan."  This  was  not  a  vain  boast  nor  an  unworthy  one, 
but  a  self-respecting  assertion  of  thorough  agricultural  knowledge  and 
high  administrative  capacity. 

He  had  one  ambition, — to  start  his  two  boys  in  life  as  their  own 
masters.  He  wished  them  to  belong  to  the  universally-envied  "  planter 
aristocracy."  With  this  in  view,  he  bought,  in  his  later  years,  a  little 
plantation  on  the  Shockoe  and  became  the  owner  of  three  slaves, — an 
old  man  and  woman,  and  a  fuzzy-headed  girl  with  a  face  of  that  curious 
lividness  which  marks  the  negro  in  whose  cuticle  the  pigmmtum  nigrum 
is  somewhat  lacking.  She  was  of  mixed  blood,  but  her  mother  was 
dark  enough  to  show  that  the  child  was  one  of  those  freaks  of  nature 
which  were  not  easily  marketable.  The  overseer  had  bought  her, 
therefore,  almost  for  a  song  at  an  administrator's  sale.  As  she  grew 
older  the  albino  tendency  seemed  to  disappear,  leaving  her  one  of  those 
curiously-marked  types  whose  relation  to  either  race  is  uncertain,  but 
whose  kinship  to  both  is  unmistakable.  He  purchased  also  a  snug 
little  plantation,  forty  miles  away,  at  the  foot  of  the  Turkey-Cock  Hills, 
which  his  sagacity  told  him  would  one  day  be  valuable  tobacco-land. 
It  was  understood  that  John,  the  elder,  was  to  have  the  home-place, 
and  Abiah,  the  younger,  was  to  take  the  hill-plantation.  The  chattels- 
real  were  to  be  equitably  divided  also, — the  old  man  and  woman  to 
John,  and  the  girl  Elena  to  Abiah.  With  this  aid  they  were  expected 
to  lift  themselves  into  the  coveted  social  position. 

The  old  man  had  raised  his  sons  carefully,  though  they  had  little 
education.  A  few  months  in  a  neighborhood  "  contribution"  school 
had  sufficed  to  teach  them  to  read,  to  write  with  difficulty,  and  to  keep 
the  rude  accounts  necessary  in  their  station.  As  agriculturists,  however, 
they  were  thoroughly  trained.  They  had  followed  the  plough  from 
boyhood  under  their  father's  eye,  knew  what  cultivation  every  crop  re 
quired,  and  were  adepts  in  the  management  of  stock  and  the  working 
of  slaves.  John  had  married  and  was  working  as  an  overseer  when  the 
war  began.  He  could  not  enter  the  service  until  his  contract  expired  ; 


A   CONFLICT  BETWEEN  CHURCH  AND  STATE.  169 

but  Abiah  volunteered  without  hesitation.  At  the  end  of  the  year 
John  did  likewise,  and  his  wife  came  to  the  home-place  to  live.  A  few 
months  afterwards,  Abiah  returned,  severely  wounded.  Soon  after,  his 
mother  died ;  and  when  he  recovered — so  far  as  he  ever  would — from, 
the  effects  of  his  wound,  possessed  with  the  spirit  of  unrest,  generated 
partly  perhaps  by  service  in  the  army  and  partly  by  lack  of  harmony 
with  his  sister-in-law,  he  persuaded  the  old  father  to  set  off  to  him  his 
portion  of  the  estate,  and,  taking  a  horse  and  wagon,  with  a  stock  of 
farming-utensils,  and  the  girl  Elena,  he  set  out  to  take  possession  of  the 
hill-plantation,  and,  literally,  single-handed,  to  carve  his  way  to  for 
tune.  He  had  still  his  right,  and,  in  a  half-boastful  way,  declared  that, 
in  spite  of  the  crippled  left,  he  was  a  better  man  than  any  of  the 
skulkers  who  would  neither  fight  nor  work,  but  "  hid  out  in  the  bush  " 
instead.  He  made  good  his  boast,  too,  and  the  little  plantation  on  the 
head-waters  of  Pig  Kiver  soon  assumed  a  thrifty  and  comfortable 
aspect. 

There  were  few  neighbors,  and  the  "  settlement "  was  more  than  a 
mile  from  any  travelled  road.  They  heard  little  of  the  movements 
of  the  outer  world.  Newspapers  were  not  abundant,  and  were  by  no 
means  considered  a  necessity  of  life.  Now  and  then  Abiah  went  to 
the  city,  twenty  miles  away,  to  market  his  produce.  Whatever  he 
raised  brought  enormous  quantities  of  paper  money,  but  what  he  had 
to  buy  seemed  very  dear.  After  the  first  season  a  colored  man  and 
woman  who  had  been  "  rcfugeed"  from  the  eastern  part  of  the  State 
were  hired.  They  cost  him  little  beyond  their  support,  as  the  owner 
regarded  their  safety — or  rather  their  lack  of  opportunity  to  escape  to 
the  enemy's  lines — as  an  equivalent  for  their  labor.  As  the  fortunes 
of  the  Confederacy  grew  desperate,  the  mountains  were  filled  with  men 
fleeing  from  conscription  and  their  pursuers.  It  was  dangerous  to  be 
suspected  of  favoring  the  former,  and  quite  as  perilous  to  be  thought  to 
give  aid  to  the  latter. 

Abiah  Wilkina  acted  very  prudently.  As  a  wounded  Confederate 
who  had  a  brother  in  the  ranks,  he  was  free  from  suspicion  of  favoring 
the  bushwhackers.  On  the  other  hand,  Elena  kept  the  keys  of  the 
smoke-house;  and  such  was  his  confidence  in  her  that  he  did  not  pry 
too  closely  into  the  amount  of  food  required  for  the  support  of  his  family. 
"While  she  saved  him  from  the  hostility  of  the  deserters,  however,  she 
neither  squandered  his  stores  nor  permitted  her  charity  to  imperil  his 
reputation  for  loyalty.  No  doubtful  characters  were  ever  seen  about 
15  H 


170  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

his  premises  by  the  officials,  and  no  hunted  conscript  ever  suspected 
Abiah  Wilkina  of  giving  information  of  his  hiding-place.  lie  really 
had  little  sympathy  with  the  conscripts.  He  would  not  willingly  have 
assisted  one  of  them  to  evade  the  service,  but,  good  Confederate  though 
he  was,  he  managed  to  convince  himself  that  he  was  not  responsible  for 
what  the  girl  might  do.  She  was  only  his  slave,  after  all,  though  a 
most  devoted  and  capable  one.  He  hardly  knew  how  he  could  have 
got  along  without  her. 

There  came  a  time,  however,  when  he  could  not  thus  easily  shake 
off  responsibility.  It  was  a  cold  night  in  mid-winter  when  he  was 
awakened  by  the  whispered  words  of  Elena : 

"  Mars'  Biah  !  Mars7  Biah  !  Won't  you  des  come  to  de  kitchen  a 
minnit?" 

"What  is  it,  Lena?" 

There  was  no  answer,  and  he  heard  her  swift,  shuffling  steps  on  the 
boards  that  formed  the  walk  to  the  kitchen,  which  rattled  on  the 
frozen  ground  as  she  went,  and  wondered  what  could  have  induced  her 
to  come  out  on  such  a  night,  barefooted. 

He  rose  hastily,  and  followed  her,  half-dressed.  As  he  reached  the 
door  he  heard  a  dull,  hollow  cough.  Opening  it,  he  saw  lying  on  a 
shuck  mattress  on  the  rude  puncheon  floor  before  the  great  fireplace  a 
young  man,  pale,  emaciated,  and  convulsed  with  that  cough  which  it 
needs  no  technically-trained  ear  to  know  is  the  sure  precursor  of  death. 
The  girl  was  kneeling  on  the  floor  beside  him,  wiping  the  red  line  of 
his  lips  while  he  panted  for  breath. 

"  What's  this?"  asked  the  master,  in  an  anxious  tone,  coining  for 
ward  into  the  circle  of  light  about  the  fire.  The  sufferer  turned  his 
great  dark  eyes  upon  the  new-comer,  and  essayed  to  speak. 

"  'Sh  !     Don't  try  to  speak,  honey.     I'll  tell  him,"  said  the  girl. 

But  the  man  would  not  be  silent.  Motioning  to  the  girl  to  raise 
his  head,  he  told  the  astonished  planter  a  strange  story.  He  was  a 
Federal  soldier  who  had  escaped  from  the  Confederate  prison  at  Salis 
bury  and  made  his  way  thus  far  towards  the  lines  of  the  Union  army. 
His  health,  already  broken,  had  been  utterly  shattered  by  the  exposure 
of  the  journey.  For  some  time  he  had  been  cared  for,  as  well  as  might 
be  by,  the  deserters  in  the  bush,  who  finally,  seeing  that  he  could  not 
recover,  and  being  themselves  compelled  to  flee  to  avoid  an  intended 
raid  upon  their  hiding-place,  had  brought  him  to  the  house,  hoping 


A  CONFLICT  BETWEEN  CHURCH  AND  STATE.  171 

that  the  kind-hearted  girl  who  had  more  than  once  brought  him  needed 
dainties  might  somehow  afford  him  shelter. 

"  Ob  co'se,  Mars'  Biah,  I  tole  'em  he  couldn't  stay  yere  'less  you 
was  willing  kuse  hit  mought  git  you  inter  trouble." 

"  I  wouldn't  do  that,  after  the  kindness  I've  received,"  said  the  in 
valid,  hoarsely.  "  I'll  go  away  if  you  think " 

But  Abiah  did  not  allow  him  to  finish  the  sentence. 

"  I'm  a  good  Confederit,"  he  said,  "  but  ther'  don't  no  man  go  outen 
my  house  en  that  condition, — friend  ner  foe." 

He  was  as  good  as  his  word.  The  next  day  the  sick  man  was  re 
moved  to  the  house  and  placed  in  Abiah's  own  bed.  Here  he  remained 
more  days  than  it  seemed  possible  that  he  could  live.  He  even  began 
to  hope  for  recovery ;  but  when  the  warm  spring-time  brought  the  news 
of  victory  for  the  Federal  arms,  he  sank  contentedly  away.  The  story 
was  common  enough  in  those  days,  though  it  seems  a  strange  one  now. 
A  mere  boy,  he  had  run  away  from  school  and  enlisted  under  an  as 
sumed  name  to  avoid  paternal  reclamation.  Taken  prisoner  and  con 
fined  in  the  fetid,  overcrowded  pen,  he  had  sunk  rapidly  into  consump 
tion,  and  but  for  an  almost  miraculous  escape  would  have  been  one  of 
the  twelve  thousand  nameless  dead  who  sleep  beneath  the  long  ridges  on 
the  sunny  hill-side  beyond  where  the  famous  prison  stood.  He  wrote 
an  account  of  his  wanderings ;  and  after  he  was  dead  and  the  war  was 
over,  Abiah  Wilkins  sent  it  to  Mr.  Swallow,  with  a  brief  ill-spelled 
note  detailing  the  end.  After  a  time  the  lawyer  came — one  of  a  great 
host  of  seekers  for  lost  loved  ones — and  took  away  the  remains  of  his 
son.  When  he  had  returned  home  and  mastered  the  sorrow  time  could 
not  assuage,  he  wrote  the  letter  John  had  brought  as  his  introduction. 

Why  had  Abiah  Wilkins  appealed  to  the  man  whose  dying  son  he 
had  befriended  almost  a  score  of  years  before,  for  aid  ?  He  had  lived 
•juietly  enough  upon  the  little  hill-plantation,  prosperous  in  a  moderate 
way,  contented  with  his  fortune,  and  at  peace  with  his  neighbors. 
Almost  too  contented,  some  said,  with  a  sly  look  which  everybody 
seemed  to  understand ;  but,  for  all  that,  he  was  highly  respected,  and 
more  than  one  young  woman  of  the  neighborhood  resolutely  set  her  cap 
for  the  well-to-do  bachelor,  only  to  have  her  labor  for  her  pains.  With 
the  downfall  of  slavery  he  increased  the  number  of  his  hirelings,  finding 
that  his  early  training  under  the  old  overseer  especially  fitted  him  for 
the  management  of  the  negro  in  a  state  of  freedom.  Elena  remained 
with  her  young  master,  and  the  keys  which  were  the  symbol  of  au- 


172  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

thority  still  hung  at  her  girdle.  She  had  not  grown  handsome  with 
the  years  that  had  elapsed,  but  she  had  managed  Abiah  Wilkins's 
domestic  affairs  so  faithfully  that  he  felt  his  success  was  in  great  measure 
due  to  her  co-operation.  Another  house  had  been  added  to  the  kitchen, 
in  which  she  dwelt, — she  and  her  children,  a  half-dozen  of  whom  had 
grown  up  around  her.  Some  of  the  elder  ones  had  been  sent  away  to 
school ;  the  younger  were  with  her  yet.  It  needed  but  a  glance  at  her 
surroundings  to  know  why  the  neighbors  wagged  their  heads  at  the 
mention  of  Abiah  AVilkins's  name. 

Yet  he  was  what  is  termed  in  the  vernacular  "  a  mighty  straight 
man."  Though  not  a  member  of  the  church,  he  was  upright  in  his 
dealings,  moderate  in  his  language,  and  sober  in  his  habits.  He  attended 
divine  service  regularly,  and  was  one  of  the  most  liberal  supporters  of 
stated  preaching  at  High  Rock  Meeting-house,  four  miles  away ;  while 
Elena  sustained  a  similar  relation  to  the  colored  church  at  Elkin's 
Ford,  two  miles  away  in  an  opposite  direction.  Both  were  highly 
respected  in  the  neighborhood,  and,  though  some  deprecated  what  was 
considered  an  impropriety,  none  felt  called  upon  to  withdraw  their 
countenance  from  either.  Even  John's  wife,  who  had  enviously  rejoiced 
in  the^loss  emancipation  would  bring  to  the  fortunate  younger  brother, 
was  fain  to  admit  that  there  were  not  many  such  housekeepers  as  "  that 
gal  Lena"  anywhere  in  the  country.  "  Brother  Biah,"  she  declared, 
"  owed  more  of  his  luck  to  her  good  management  than  to  his  own  good 
sense." 

^The  new  plantation  had  grown  old  in  the  mean  time.  The  trees 
which  had  been  topped  when  the  house  was  built  had  thrown  out  their 
protecting  branches  over  it ;  porches  had  been  added  here  and  there, 
and  a  latticed  way  connected  the  house  and  kitchen, — having  a  branch 
also  with  each  other  that  led  to  the  well, — and  on  this  the  ivy  and 
honeysuckle  struggled  for  supremacy.  Abiah  smoked  his  pipe  con 
tentedly  upon  the  porch,  but  supervised  with  diligence  the  work  of  the 
plantation.  Neatness  and  comfort  reigned  about  the  house. 

About  this  time  a  big  meeting  was  held  at  High  Hock  Church  after 
the  crops  were  laid  by,  and,  to  the  surprise  of  all,  among  others  who 
went  forward  to  the  straw-strewn  space  before  the  pulpit  under  the 
arbor,  asking  the  prayers  of  God's  people,  was  Abiah  Wilkins.  The 
sight  inspired  those  in  charge  of  the  meeting  to  renewed  exertions. 
Long  and  fervid  were  the  prayers  which  were  offered  in  his  behalf.  If 
he  was  not  a  boisterous  penitent,  he  was  a  persevering  one.  Day  after 


A   CONFLICT  BETWEEN  CHURCH  AND  STATE.  173 

day  and  night  after  night  he  was  found  kneeling  in  the  same  place.  It 
was  the  talk  of  the  neighborhood.  Elena  went  once  to  see  for  herself 
what  she  had  heard  so  much  about  from  others.  When  she  returned 
home  her  eyes  were  red  with  weeping.  After  that  she  served  her  master 
silently,  tearfully.  She  felt  that  her  hour  had  come,  yet  she  made  no 
complaint,  uttered  no  reproaches.  So  Hagar  must  have  felt  when  her 
master  put  her  forth  in  the  desert. 

At  length,  after  seven  days  and  nights  of  struggle,  grace  triumphed, 
and  Abiali  Wilkins  testified  with  flowing  tears  of  that  love  which 
taketh  away  sin.  As  in  everything  else,  he  was  quiet  and  undemon 
strative  in  regard  to  his  religious  experiences;  but  none  the  less  did 
every  one  put  faith  in  his  sincerity.  As  he  did  not  offer  to  join  the 
church,  he  was  urged  to  do  so,  and,  upon  expressing  his  willingness,  one 
of  the  most  persuasive  of  the  preachers  in  attendance  was  deputed  to 
confer  with  him  in  regard  to  a  right  ordering  of  his  domestic  life,  so 
that  the  Church  of  God  might  not  be  scandalized  by  any  show  of 
evil. 

"Brother  Wilkius,"  said  the  chosen  emissary,  as  they  sat  smoking 
upon  the  porch  after  having  partaken  of  a  bountiful  repast  prepared  by 
Elena, — "Brother  Wilkins,  your  past  life  has  not  been  in  harmony 
with  the  law  of  God." 

Abiah  bowed  his  head  with  a  troubled  look. 

"This,"  said  the  mentor,  sternly,  "will  have  to  be  amended,  so 
that  the  Church  of  God  may  suffer  no  harm  from  your  example." 

"  Of  course,"  said  Abiah,  shooting  a  stream  of  smoke  out  into  the 
moonlight. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  about  it  ?" 

The  new  convert  smoked  on  in  silence.  A  whippoorwill,  sitting 
lengthwise  on  the  ridge-pole  of  the  house,  sent  out  into  the  night  its 
melancholy  song.  The  fire- flies  danced  up  and  down  among  the 
orchard-grass  under  the  oaks,  and  the  katydid  shrieked  its  clamorous 
challenge  into  the  night.  Still  Abiah  was  silent.  The  tragedy  in 
which  every  man  plays  a  leading  part  first  or  last,  had  culminated,  and 
the  hero  had  forgotten  his  lines. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do,  my  brother  ?" 

The  soft  persuasive  tones  of  the  man  of  God  fell  upon  his  ear  and 
went  by  him  into  the  silent  night.  Elena,  crouching  behind  the  vine- 
clad  lattice,  heard  them,  and  waited  breathless  for  the  response.  Still 
Abiah  smoked  on  in  silence.  At  length  he  took  the  long  reed  stem 
15* 


174  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

from  liis  mouth,  knocked  the  ashes  from  the  bowl,  carefully  putting 
liis  foot  on  the  yet  glowing  embers,  and  said, — 

"  Passon,  I  hain't  edzactly  concluded  what  I  will  do.  I  'lows  to 
do  the  fa'r  thing ;  but  the  trouble  is  to  know  jes'  what's  the  right  thing 
to  be  done.  What  do  you  say,  passon  ?" 

"  You  must  put  away  this  woman  with  whom  you  have  so  long 
lived  in  open  shame,"  said  the  minister,  sternly.  He  thought  it  a  case 
in  which  mild  words  and  mild  measures  would  be  of  no  avail. 

"  She's  stuck  by  me  sick  an'  well,"  mused  Abiah. 

"  Of  course  you  will  recompense  her  for  her  services." 

"  Jest  'bout  half  I've  got's  been  owin'  to  her  management." 

"  It's  very  creditable  to  you  to  acknowledge  her  merit." 

"  Ef  it  hadn't  been  for  her,  I'd  'a'  died  in  my  sins  long  ago.'] 

He  lighted  his  pipe  and  began  to  smoke  again.  The  minister 
watched  his  face  narrowly  as  the  match  flamed  up  from  the  glowing 
bowl. 

"  Were  you  afraid  to  die  then,  Brother  Wilkins?" 

"  Nary  bit,  passon :  jest  felt  as  I  do  now,  that  I  ought  to  do  the 
fa'r  thing ;  that  was  all." 

"  Did  you  do  it  ?" 

"  Wai,  sorter  :  I  made  my  will." 

"I  suppose  you  made  a  good  provision  for  the  girl?"  asked  the 
minister,  curiously. 

"  I  left  her  all  ther'  was,"  answered  the  convert. 

"What!" 

"  All  ther'  was,  passon.  You  see,  this  is  the  way  I  felt  about  it. 
She's  done  ez  much  ez  I ;  her  chil'run  is  my  chil'run.  Ef  ther's  been 
any  wrong,  I'm  the  one  that's  ter  blame  fer  it;  and  what  ther'  is 
wouldn't  be  none  too  much  fer  her  to  git  along  with,  alone." 

"  It's  fortunate  you  did  not  die  at  that  time,"  said  the  minister,  in 
a  tone  of  relief. 

"  I  don'  know  'bout  that,"  pursued  the  other ;  "  hit's  a  mighty  sight 
easier  ter  do  jcstice  when  one  thinks  he's  a-dyin'  than  when  he's  got  ter 
keep  on  livin'.  Yer  see,  what  was  jesticc  then  ain't  nothin'  more'n  jest  ice 


would  expect  you  to  do  as  much  as  that  for  her." 
;  but  what's  religion  good  fer  if  it  don't  make  a  : 


"  But  no  one 

"  PYaps  not ;  but  what's  religion  good  fer  if  it  don't  make  a  man 
jest?" 

"  But  your  idea  is  morbid  and  extravagant.     The  woman  no  doubt 


A   CONFLICT  BETWEEN  CHUECH  AND  STATE.  175 

deserves  to  be  treated  liberally;  but  you  are  not  called  upon  to  impov 
erish  yourself.  If  she  were  a  white  woman,  now,  you  might  many  her." 

"  There  ain't  many  women  whiter' n  she  is,  in  this  world  ner  the 
next,  passon,"  said  Abiah,  solemnly. 

"  That  may  be, — in  a  way,"  assented  the  minister.  "  But  you  can 
not  marry  her,  of  course.  The  law  is  dead  against  that." 

"  I  s'pose  'tis,"  said  the  other,  moodily. 

"You  ought  to  be  glad  of  it,  too,  if  you  contemplated  such  a  de 
grading  act." 

"  PVaps  I  lied." 

"  Of  course  you  should.  Now  let  me  urge  you,  my  brother,  to  act 
in  this  matter  with  firmness  and  without  delay.  '  Cast  aside  the  sin  that 
doth  so  easily  beset  you.'  Make  a  good  provision  for  this  girl,  and 
pack  lier  off.  Then  on  next  communion-day  you  can  join  the  church 
and  begin  a  new  life." 

"  Wai,  passon,  I'll  'tend  to  hit  right  away,  I'll  promise  that ;  and 
whatever  I  do,  you  may  be  sure  hit'll  be  right, — or  ez  nigh  right  ez  I 
kin  git." 

"  Well,  don't  let  your  impulses  carry  you  so  far  that  you  might 
regret  it :  remember  that  justice,  like  charity,  begins  at  home." 

"  So  it  do  :  I  ain't  likely  ter  fergit  that,"  said  Abiah.  "  Passon," 
he  continued,  earnestly,  "  what  would  you  say  ef  I  should  jes'  make 
over  ter  Lena  an'  her  chil'run  pretty  much  all  I've  got  round  me  here 
an'  start  over  in  life  fer  myself, — a  new  life,  ez  you  sed?" 

"  I  should  say  you  were  a  fool,"  said  the  minister,  bluntly. 

"  An'  the  others, — the  church,— I  s'pose  they'd  think  so  too  ?" 

"  Of  course ;  every  sensible  person  would." 

"So  I  s'pose, — so  I  s'pose,"  mused  Abiah.  "But,  passon,  what 
d'yer  think  Jesus  Christ  would  say  about  it  ef  he  was  here  an  a-jedgin' 
on't  right  now  ?  D'ye  think  he  would  say  it  was  too  much,  er — too 
little?" 

There  was  a  moment's  silence,  and  then  the  minister  responded, 
solemnly, — 

"My  brother,  there  are  some  things  every  man  must  decide  for 
himself;  and  this  is  one.  May  God  help  you  to  decide  aright !" 

"  Amen  !"  responded  Abiah.  Then  he  struck  a  light  and  showed 
the  minister  to  his  room. 

The  next  day  Abiah  drove  to  the  city,  taking  Elena  with  him. 
They  were  absent  nearly  a  week.  It  was  thought  he  would  return 


176  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

alone ;  but  lie  did  not.  The  Sabbath  following,  Abiah  rode  as  usual  to 
the  High  Rock  meeting.  It  was  the  day  he  was  to  be  received  into 
the  church.  He  arrived  before  the  service  commenced.  The  grove 
was  fresh  and  green  after  a  shower  of  the  night  previous.  He  felt 
that  he  ought  to  be  happy,  though  his  face  was  full  of  doubt.  As  he 
walked  down  the  aisle,  with  his  hat  hung  upon  his  crippled  hand,  he 
saw  the  table  prepared  for  the  communion,  and  wondered  if  he  would 
be  allowed  to  taste  the  elements  the  snowy  cloth  concealed.  He  knew 
that  every  one  was  regarding  him  with  curiosity.  Some  of  the  light- 
minded  winked  and  made  remarks  as  he  appeared,  which  the  better- 
behaved  pretended  not  to  hear. 

The  minister  saw  him  as  he  entered,  and  met  him  half-way  down 
the  aisle.  Taking  him  by  the  arm,  he  led  him  out  past  the  pulpit  into 
the  grove  back  of  the  arbor.  After  walking  a  little  way,  they  sat  down 
upon  a  log.  The  minister  took  out  his  knife,  cut  oil'  a  sucker,  and 
began  to  trim  it.  Abiah  still  held  his  hat  upon  his  crippled  hand. 

"Well,  Brother  Wilkins,  how  is  it?  What  have  you  done  with 
the  woman  ?" 

Abiah  drew  forth  from  the  breast-pocket  of  his  coat  a  paper,  which 
he  partly  opened,  with  the  curious  skill  the  one-handed  acquire,  by 
pressing  it  against  his  breast,  and  extended  towards  the  minister.  The 
latter  glanced  at  it,  flushed,  turned  pale,  and  trembled  with  excitement. 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say "  he  began,  angrily. 

"  Yes,  passon,"  said  Abiah,  humbly.  "  Thar  didn't  seem  to  be  no 
other  way  ter  do  the  right  thing." 

"  Do  you  know  what  people  will  say  ?" 

"  I  s'pose  they'll  think  me  mighty  low-down.  I  don't  blame  'em. 
Hit  were  pretty  hard  ter  do,  passon;  but  one  can't  expect  ter  be  a 
Christian  fer  uothin'." 

"But  how  did  you  come  to  do  it?     You  promised  me " 

"I  did,  passon,  I  did,"  interrupted  Abiah,  "an'  I  'lowed  ter  do 
then  pretty  much  ez  you  advised ;  but  I  thought  I  oughtn't  ter  be 
onjust  ter  ennybody.  So  when  the  lawyer  tole  me  we  could  be  married 
in  the  Deestrick  of  Columby,  all  straight  an'  reg'lar,  I  thought  I'd 
give  her  a  chance  ter  say  she  were  an  honest  women,  an  give  the  chil'run 
a  right  ter  wear  their  fayther's  name.  Then  I  'lowed  ter  give  her  half 
uv  all  I  hed,  let  her  go  off  somewheres  with  the  chil'run,  an'  I'd  stay 
here  an'  never  see  nothiu'  more  of  'cm.  That  were  my  design,  passon, 
an'  I  thought  that  were  the  best  I  could  do ;  but  when  we  stood  up 


A  CONFLICT  BETWEEN  CHURCH  AND  STATE.  177 

afore  the  minister  an'  I  promised  afore  God  tor  '  take  iliis  woman'  an' 
'  cleave  only  ter  her/  I  seed  'twouldn't  do :  I  couldn't  do  justice  l>y 
halves.  So  here  I  be.  Ef  you  think " 

"I  think "  The  minister  interrupted  himself  as  he  looked  into 

the  patient  face  before  him.  "  God  judge  you,  my  brother;  I  dare  not. 
You  have  done  a  terrible  thing.  If  it  were  known  to  the  congregation, 
I  fear  you  might  suffer  violence.  I  think  you  had  butter  go  home  and 
— go  away.  God  bless  you  !" 

He  wrung  the  convert's  hand  and  walked  back  to  the  arbor.  The 
words  of  the  opening  hymn  were  echoing  through  the  grove  when 
Abiah  mounted  his  horse  and  rode  homeward. 

There  was  great  excitement  in  the  community  when  these  things 
became  known.  Fortunately,  the  court  was  in  session  at  the  county 
seat,  and,  a  true  bill  having  been  found,  Biali  and  Elena  were  arrested. 
This  probably  saved  them  from  violence.  As  in  very  many  States  at 
the  North  as  well  as  at  the  South,  the  marriage  of  a  white  person 
with  one  of  one-eighth  or  more  of  colored  blood  was  contrary  to  the 
law,  and  this  marriage,  though  solemnized  without  the  State,  being 
between  parties  domiciled  therein  and  visiting  a  foreign  jurisdiction 
simply  for  the  purpose  of  marriage,  was  held  upon  the  trial  to  be  in 
fraud  of  the  statute,  and  therefore  void.  This  view  was  also  sustained 
by  the  Supreme  Court. 

This  was  the  state  of  affairs  when  appeal  was  made  to  Mr.  Swallow. 

"  What  Biali  wants  tcr  know,"  said  the  faithful  brother  who  had 
stuck  to  him  "through  evil  as  well  as  good  report,"  "is  whether  the 
law  uv  the  United  States  is  good  over  the  whole  kentry,  er  only  three 
miles  one  way  and  five  miles  'tother  from  the  Capitol.  Er  to  put  it  in 
a  leetle  diff 'rent  shape,  he  wants  ter  know  ef  Elena  is  his  wife  sure 
an'  fast  in  Washin'ton,  why  she  ain't  his  wife  in  Ferginny?  I  ain't 
stan'm'  up  fcr  Biali.  Ef  he  was  clar,  I  wouldn'  own  him  ez  a  brother  ; 
he's  gone  an'  disgraced  hisself  an'  the  whole  fambly ;  but  this  I  will 
say :  he  didn't  'low  ter  do  enny  harm,  but  only  ter  do  in  a  lawful  way 
what  he  thought  the  Lord  commanded.  Now,  what  /  want  ter  know 
is,  how  is  one  gwine  ter  tell  when  he's  right  an'  when  he's  wrong,  ef  he 
can't  foller  law  ner  Scripter?" 

^  These  are  very  interesting  questions,  Mr.  Wilkins,"  saicl  the 
Junior,  suavely,  "but  I  don't  suppose  Biah  would  care  to  stay  in  jail 
long  enough  to  have  them  decided.  It  happens  that  there  is  one  thing 
in  his  favor.  The  authority  of  a  State  court  to  disregard  a  marriage 

H* 


178  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

duly  solemnized  under  the  laws  of  the  United  States,  because  inconsist 
ent  with  the  State  law,  has  never  been  decided,  and  it  is  quite  possible 
that  the  authorities  of  the  State  would  hardly  care  to  press  for  an  adju 
dication  at  this  time.  It  is  one  of  those  questions  which  it  is  some 
times  thought  best  not  to  have  decided,  if  a  good  way  is  offered  to 
avoid  the  necessity.  A  lawyer's  business  is  to  serve  his  client  rather 
than  settle  legal  questions.  So  we  will  apply  for  our  writ  of  error,  and 
then,  if  the  authorities  are  willing  to  let  Biah  go  where  nobody  will 
inquire  about  the  pedigree  of  his  wife,  and  he  is  willing  to  go,  I  don't 
see  but  we  have  found  the  best  way  out  of  the  trouble.  If  we  have  to 
carry  it  up,  of  course  we  will;  but  it's  a  mighty  good  rule  never  to 
fight  for  what  you  can  get  without  a  fight." 

We  prepared  the  papers,  and  Mr.  Swallow  himself  made  the  appli 
cation  for  the  writ.  But  the  case  has  never  come  to  trial.  In  the 
court  below,  the  indictment  is  marked  "  Nol.  Pros.,"  and  in  the  ap 
pellate  court  the  entry  stands,  "Dismissed  at  Plaintiff's  cost."  So 
the  legal  puz/le  it  presents  remains  unsolved.  The  great  West  has 
swallowed  up  Abiah  Wilkins  and  his  shame;  "the  peace  of  God  and 
the  State"  are  no  more  threatened  by  his  sin  or  his  repentance;  and 
those  lawfully  wedded  in  one  State  may  still  be  adjudged  malefactors  in 
another. 


IX. 

1IOW  I  BECAME  THE  WIDOW'S  ATTORNEY. 

FOR  more  than  a  year  I  had  mot  almost  every  day,  upon  the  ferry 
boat  that  took  me  back  and  forth  from  the  suburban  town  in  which 
I  finally  pitched  my  tent,  a  lady  who  was  destined  in  a  remarkable  man 
ner  to  influence  my  relations  with  Gauge  &  Swallow.  I  first  saw  Mrs. 
Murray  at  the  office  of  an  up-to\vn  publishing  firm  who  were  our  clients. 
As  it  happened,  a  certain  matter  which  was  placed  in  my  hands  made 
it  necessary  that  I  should  be  informed  as  to  the  details  of  one  of  the 
departments  of  their  business,  which  was  under  her  supervision.  In 
announcing  the  fact  that  she  would  give  me  the  desired  information, 
one  of  the  partners  referred  to  her  as  "  the  pretty  widow."  She  fully 
justified  the  appellation,  being  young,  fair,  and  of  a  frank,  engaging 
manner,  which  tempered  rather  than  concealed  a  natural  vivacity.  Per 
haps  I  paid  more  visits  to  the  office  of  Kydd  &  Crew  than  the  nature 
of  the  business  absolutely  demanded;  and  I  will  confess  that  I  fixed 
upon  this  suburb  as  the  place  of  my  abode,  chiefly  because  she  resided 
there. 

The  way  I  came  to  learn  this  fact  was  peculiar.  I  was  unwilling 
to  ask  the  question  directly,  and  was  unable  to  secure  any  intimation 
which  might  guide  me.  Of  course  I  did  not  wish  to  follow  her,  though 
there  is  no  knowing  what  I  might  not  have  done  had  not  fortune  helped 
me  better  than  I  could  have  helped  myself. 

I  had  not,  as  so  many  young  men  do,  abandoned  my  church  relations 
on  corning  to  the  city,  nor  intermitted  the  activity  in  religious  matters 
to  which  I  had  been  accustomed  in  my  country  home.  This  is  a  course 
which  I  have  many  times  had  occasion  to  be  grateful  for  having  taken, 
and  I  deem  it  neither  inconsistent  with  a  proper  self-respect  nor  derog 
atory  to  the  religious  profession  that  one  should  receive  personal  ad 
vantage  from  associations  thus  formed.  As  it  happened,  soon  after  my 
first  introduction  to  Mrs.  Murray  I  was  selected  to  take  part  in  a  move- 


180  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

mcnt  for  promoting  religious  interest  among  the  young  men  not  only  of 
that  particular  suburb,  but  in  the  very  neighborhood  where  she  resided. 
I  recognized  her  among  the  audience,  and  felt  that  a  power  mightier  than 
I  was  shaping  events  in  my  favor.  I  met  her  at  the  reception  held  after 
the  meeting  in  the  church  parlors,  and  was  not  slow  to  claim  acquaint 
ance.  I  was  more  than  ever  delighted  with  her  easy  grace  and  winning 
manner.  After  all  was  over,  my  friend  the  pastor,  a  young  man  whose 
guest  I  was  for  the  nonce,  as  we  smoked  our  cigars  in  his  study,  gave 
me  a  full  account  of  the  object  of  mv  admiration  : 

"  Mrs.  Murray  has  been  a  member  of  the  congregation  ever  since  I 
came  here,  three  years  ago.  I  think  she  had  then  resided  here  but  a 
short  time,  as  she  was  still  regarded  with  that  sort  of  exuberance  of 
attention  which  is  apt  to  attend  the  advent  of  an  attractive  stranger. 
She  lived  in  good  style,  in  one  of  the  prettiest  little  houses  in  town,  as 
well  as  one  of  the  best  appointed ;  was  a  regular  attendant  on  our 
services,  and  took  an  active  part  in  all  our  church  work,  though  not  a 
communicant.  Her  husband  was  much  older  than  herself,  and  entirely 
immersed  in  business, — mining  and  cattle,  at  the  West,  I  think,  where 
he  spent  most  of  his  time,  coming  East  only  now  and  then  on  flying  visits 
to  his  young  wife.  Sometimes  they  rode  out  together,  but  usually  she 
remained  at  home  on  such  occasions,  devoting  herself  exclusively  to  him. 
People  wondered  a  little  at  their  dissimilarity  of  tastes,  but  there  was  no 
denying  the  fact  that  Mrs.  Murray  was  not  only  a  devoted  but  a  very 
happy  wife.  I  do  not  think  I  have  ever  witnessed  more  placid  content 
ment  than  hers.  She  evidently  had  all  that  she  wished,  and  enjoyed  to 
the  full  all  that  she  had.  Highly  cultured,  a  musician  of  fine  abilitv, 
and  an  artist  of  considerable  skill,  her  books,  her  music,  and  her  husband 
seemed  to  take  all  her  thought,  except  what  was  given  to  charitable 
work,  in  which  she  was  both  active  and  liberal.  One  thing  was  for  a 
time  regarded  as  singular  :  except  for  the  servants,  she  lived  alone.  She 
had  many  callers,  but  no  visitors,  and  never  gave  or  accepted  invitations. 
After  a  while  people  became  used  to  it.  Nobody  seemed  to  know  any 
thing  about  her  husband,  except  that  he  was  rich.  I  never  met  him 
more  than  once  or  twice.  I  was  once  invited  to  tea,  and  passed  a  very 
pleasant  evening  with  them.  He  said  he  let  her  stay  here  to  finish  her 
studies,  which  he  had  very  inconsiderately  broken  off.  I  shall  never 
forget  the  look  of  loving  reproach  with  which  she  greeted  this  statement, 
lie  added,  jocosely,  that  when  her  studies  were  completed — well,  he  did 


HOW  I  BECAME  THE   WIDOW'S  ATTORNEY.  181 

not  know  whether  they  would  go  abroad,  or  live  in  Denver, — go  in  for 
comfort,  or  make  a  sensation. 

"  About  a  year  after,  her  husband  died, — one  of  the  victims  of  a 
terrible  railroad-accident.  She  went  on  to  attend  the  obsequies,  and 
returned  a  few  weeks  after,  what  you  see  her  now, — cheerful,  resigned, 
yet  never  forgetful  of  the  shadow  that  fell  so  suddenly  on  her  young 
life.  Her  invalid  mother  came  back  with  her,  and  has  remained  ever 
since.  Mrs.  Murray  is  engaged  with  Ivydd  &  Crew,  more,  I  think,  from 
love  of  art  than  from  any  need  there  is  for  her  to  labor.  She  seems  to 
have  money  enough,  and  since  her  husband's  death  has  abated  nothing 
of  luxury  or  charity ;  indeed,  her  benefactions  have  increased. 

"  That/'  said  my  friend,  "is  all  I  know  about  the  fair  widow, — all 
that  needs  to  be  known,  it  is  true,  but,  after  all,  a  singularly  bounded 
life.  Her  mother  came  from  Philadelphia.  They  have  evidently 
always  moved  in  good  society,  but  have  no  confidants,  and  none  of  that 
light  gossip  that  floats  from  city  to  city  has  ever  clustered  about  them 
here.  Who  and  what  her  family  were  no  one  seems  to  know,  and, 
indeed,  no  one  seems  to  care.  I  judge  from  some  chance  remarks  of 
the  mother  that  the  family  had  met  with  some  misfortune  from  which 
they  were  rescued  by  the  daughter's  marriage.  She  has  had  many 
admirers,  but  I  do  not  think  any  one  has  progressed  far  enough  to  be 
termed  a  suitor.  It  is  easy  to  see  that  you  are  smitten,"  my  friend 
added,  with  jocular  familiarity,  "and  I  cannot  blame  you.  She  is  a 
combination  sufficient  to  turn  the  head  of  any  marrying  man.  There 
is  nothing  but  praise  to  be  heard  of  her ;  and  yet " 

"  Perhaps  you  have  an  inclination  that  way  yourself?"  I  said, 
noticing  his  hesitation. 

"  No,"  he  replied.  "  I  saw  it  was  no  use, — or,  rather,  felt  it.  After 
her  husband's  death,  I  ventured  to  speak  to  her  about  joining  the 
church,  and  there  was  something  in  the  way  she  declined  even  to  con 
sider  the  matter  which  assured  me  she  had  her  own  life  to  live,  and 
that  it  was  one  no  one  else  would  be  permitted  to  share.  She  may 
marry  again ;  but  I  doubt  it.  If  she  does — well,  it  will  be  a  lucky 
man  who  wins  her  love,  for  no  one  will  get  her  hand  unless  her  heart 
goes  with  it." 

"She  has  no  children?" 

"  None." 

"  Then  she  will  marry." 

My  friend  smiled. 
16 


182  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

"  How  wise  we  men  are  when  we  discourse  about  women  !"  lie  said. 

Nevertheless  I  made  up  my  mind,  then  and  there,  that  I  would  win 
and  wed  the  pretty  widow.  Perhaps  the  profession  makes  one  a  little 
incredulous  as  to  certain  phases  of  human  nature.  At  least  I  did  not 
feel  seriously  discomposed  about  the  prospect  of  success.  I  was  doing 
well  by  this  time, — had  a  fair  salary,  and  could  look  forward  to  a  share 
in  the  business  with  some  confidence.  I  had  never  been  counted  ill- 
favored,  and  was  not  without  attractive  accomplishments. 

I  was  not  precipitate.  I  had  learned  to  proceed  with  deliberation 
in  important  matters.  I  saw  the  cage  in  which  the  pretty  bird  dwelt, 
— a  beautiful  little  brick  Queen-Anne,  crowned  with  pretty  gables,  which 
overlooked  the  water.  Somehow,  its  tasteful  completeness  reminded  me 
of  its  owner,  for  I  took  occasion  to  consult  the  record,  and  learned  that 
she  was  the  owner,  and  that  it  was  unencumbered.  The  title  was  in 
her  maiden  name,  her  husband,  Anderson  Murray,  having  apparently 
been  the  owner  of  no  realty  in  the  city,  which  accounted  for  the  fact 
that  there  was  no  record  of  administration  on  his  estate.  I  was  fortu 
nate  in  securing  a  boarding-place  just  far  enough  away  so  that  it  should 
not  seem  that  I  was  seeking  her  neighborhood,  yet  requiring  me  to 
pass  her  house  on  my  way  to  and  from  the  train.  It  was  easy  to  learn 
when  she  came  and  went ;  and,  as  our  occupations  were  similar,  it  was 
natural  enough  that  my  trips  should  coincide  with  hers.  I  was  careful 
not  to  obtrude  myself  upon  her  notice  and  yet  be  as  often  as  I  reasonably 
might  within  her  cognizance.  Little  by  little,  a  sort  of  familiarity 
sprang  up  between  us.  I  conversed  with  her  sometimes,  in  our  journeys 
back  and  forth,  of  literature  and  art,  in  which  I  knew  she  was  interested, 
and  studied  these  subjects  more  than  I  had  ever  done  before,  that  I 
might  merit  her  approval. 

So  matters  went  on  for  more  than  a  year.  I  had  called  a  few  times 
at  the  neat  little  home,  had  transacted  some  unimportant  business  for  her, 
had  become  a  favorite  with  the  invalid  mother,  and  endeavored  to  make 
myself  useful  and  agreeable,  without  arousing  suspicion  of  my  purpose. 
This  purpose  in  the  mean  time  had  become  an  absorbing  passion,  which 
shaped  my  every  thought. 

About  this  time  her  mother  died,  and  I  determined  as  soon  as  I  could 
with  propriety  to  avow  my  attachment  and  hazard  the  consequences. 
Somehow,  I  flattered  'myself  that  I  was  not  regarded  with  disfavor.  It 
was  not  long  before  the  duty  of  making  arrangements  for  the  May 
festival  of  the  children  of  our  church  gave  me  an  excuse  to  call  upon 


HOW  I  BECAME  THE   WIDOW'S  ATTORNEY..  183 

her.  I  found  her  alone,  engaged  in  re-touching  a  set  of  pastel  cartons, 
designed  for  the  illustration  of  a  book,  on  which  she  had  been  engaged 
for  some  time.  The  fact  that  they  were  to  be  sent  the  next  day  to  the 
engraver  was  given  as  the  reason  for  admitting  me  to  the  pretty  little 
room  in  the  gothic  gable  which  had  been  fitted  up  for  a  studio. 

She  received  me  even  more  cordially  than  I  had  hoped.  Her  face 
was  flushed  with  the  consciousness  of  achievement.  The  set  of  pastels 
— there  were  seven  of  them,  I  remember — were  arranged  along  one 
side  of  the  room,  for  convenience  of  studying  and  comparing  them  in 
order  to  make  her  final  alterations.  I  did  not  wonder  she  was  proud 
of  her  work.  In  one  corner  of  the  room  was  a  large  easel,  before  which 
hung  a  velvet  curtain,  suspended  by  rings  which  slid  upon  a  burnished 
rod.  We  talked  of  the  festival  a  little,  of  the  pictures  a  great  deal, 
and  of  herself  more  than  I  had  ever  heard  her  speak  before. 

"It  is  the  last  work  I  shall  do,"  she  said,  gazing  regretfully  at  the 
set  of  black  and  white  boards  on  which  she  had  traced  her  thought  with 
unusual  skill,  "  for  a  long  time  at  least, — perhaps  the  very  last." 

I  was  startled  at  the  unusual  earnestness  of  her  tone,  and  inquired 
anxiously  what  she  meant. 

"I  am  going  away,"  she  said,  without  removing  her  eyes  from  the 
drawings, — "  going  abroad." 

''  To  study  art,  I  suppose,"  I  managed  to  say.  Somehow,  the  words 
seemed  to  choke  me.  She  was  contemplating  a  prolonged  absence  evi 
dently  with  no  thought  that  it  was  a  matter  of  any  moment  to  me. 

"  To  study  art  ?"  she  repeated,  with  a  curious  smile,  still  looking  at 
her  work.  "  Well,  yes,  I  suppose  so." 

"  Will  you  go  soon  ?" 

"On  Saturday." 
I  trust  you  do  not  expect  to  be  away  very  long  ?" 

"  I  don't  know.     I  may  return — sometime." 

She  added  a  touch  of  white  to  one  of  the  pictures  as  she  spoke. 
During  this  conversation  she  had  not  looked  at  me.  I  felt  that  I  was 
nothing  to  her,  but  this  very  thought  made  me  bold.  If  I  could  have 
caught  her  eye,  I  should  have  poured  forth  my  passion  though  I  knew 
it  was  but  to  meet  rejection. 

"  And^that  reminds  me,"  she  continued,  as  she  finished  the  touch 
she  was  giving  the  picture  and  laid  aside  the  crayon,  "  that  I  wanted 
to  see  you  about  some  business  matters.  I  shall  require  an  agent  to 


184  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

look  after  affairs  in  my  absence,  and  want  some  one  in  whom  I  can 
place  implicit  confidence.  Will  you  act  for  me,  Mr.  Fontaine?" 

"  I  would  give  my  life  to  serve  yon,  Mrs.  Murray,"  I  answered, 
desperately.  It  was  a  foolish  speech,  and  no  doubt  must  have  seemed 
so  to  the  beautiful  woman  who  turned  towards  me  with  a  look  of  candid 
surprise  in  her  clear  gray  eyes.  I  knew  already  that  my  passion  was 
hopeless,  and  hated  myself  most  heartily  for  having  revealed  it ;  yet  I 
loved  her  all  the  more  that  she  did  not  affect  to  misunderstand  me. 
There  is  some  consolation  in  loving  even  hopelessly  a  woman  who  has 
courage  enough  to  recognize  the  fact  without  humiliating  one  with  her 
pity. 

"  Don't  say  that,  Mr.  Fontaine, — don't,"  she  said,  with  frank  regret- 
fulness.  "  You  have  been  a  very  good  friend  to  me,  and  I  esteem  you 
very  highly.  If  you  had  not  been  so  considerate,  so  gentlemanly,  I 
might  have  prevented  this." 

"  I  am  heartily  glad  you  did  not,"  I  replied,  not  at  all  bitterly, 
"  for  I  at  least  have  had  the  pleasure  of  knowing  and  loving  you." 

"  You  must  not  do  so  any  more,"  she  said,  earnestly,  yet  with  a 
smile  which  was  a  consolation  because  it  expressed  sympathy  and 
appreciation  without  any  pity.  "  You  must  not  do  so  any  more,"  she 
repeated,  as  she  laid  her  hand  in  frank  confidence  upon  my  shoulder, 
"because  I  need  your  assistance, — may  need  it  very  badly, — and  can 
give  you  no  hope  that  our  relations  will  ever  be  other  than  what  they 
are." 

I  bowed  my  head  before  her  steady  gaze.  There  may  have  been 
tears  in  my  eyes,  which  I  was  determined  she  should  not  see, — not  that 
I  was  ashamed  of  them,  but  I  did  not  wish  to  distress  her.  It  was  not 
her  fault  that  she  did  not  love  me ;  and  why  should  I  make  her  miser 
able  by  displaying  my  weakness? 

"  I  like  you,  Mr.  Fontaine,  and  under  other  circumstances  might  not 
have  been  unwilling  to  hear  you  speak  as  you  have,  but — "  she  paused 
an  instant,  and  then  added,  impetuously,  "  I  will  trust  you,  Mr.  Fon 
taine.  That  man  stands  between  us  !" 

She  swept  back  the  curtain  that  hung  before  the  easel,  as  she  spoke, 
and  pointed  to  the  life-size  portrait  of  a  man  of  splendid  presence. 
Evidently  past  middle  life,  showing  touches  of  gray  in  the  full  beard 
and  the  hair  grown  thin  above  the  forehead,  it  was  yet  instinct  with 
life  and  power, — a  man  to  do  great  things,  whether  good  or  bad,  and 
possessing  qualities  which  might  well  captivate  a  woman's  heart.  I 


HOW  I  BECAME  THE   WIDOW'S  ATTORNEY.  185 

knew  him  from  the  imperfect  descriptions  I  had  received :   it  seemed 
indeed  that  I  should  have  known  him  without  them. 

"  Your  husband  ?"  I  said,  not  removing  my  eyes  from  the  picture. 
If  she  inclined  her  head  I  did  not  see  it;  I  did  not  require  confirma 
tion  of  my  words.  She  certainly  did  not  answer  audibly.  Perhaps  I 
assumed  her  assent.  At  any  rate,  I  added,  not  without  a  trepidation 
for  which  I  could  not  account,  "  But  he  is  dead." 

"  He  is  alive,  and — I  love  him." 

The  words  were  full  of  a  tenderness  that  avouched  their  sincerity. 
I  looked  up  at  her  in  amazement.  She  was  gazing  at  the  picture  in 
self- forgetful  absorption. 

"  But  what — I  thought — why "     These  were  the  only  words  I 

could  stammer  out. 

"  Why  was  it  given  out  that  he  was  dead  ?"  she  asked,  calmly,  as 
if  she  read  my  thought.  "  I  do  not  know." 

She  let  the  curtain  fall,  and  looked  around  at  me  with  steady,  un 
flinching  eyes. 

"  But  if  he  is  your  husband  you  must — I  mean,  you  ought "  I 

could  get  no  further.     What  I  desired  to  say  I  do  not  even  now  know. 

Her  face  suffused  slowly,  and  then  the  blush  as  slowly  died  away  : 

"  I  do  not  know  whether  he  is  my  husband  or  not." 

I  had  risen  unconsciously  when  she  uncovered  the  picture,  and  her 
words  staggered  me  like  a  blow.  She  must  have  seen  my  confusion, 
but  her  gaze  did  not  falter,  and  her  voice  was  firm  and  even  as  she 
asked, — 

"  Knowing  this,  Mr.  Fontaine,  are  you  still  willing  to  serve  me  ?" 

The  tone  rather  than  the  words  steadied  rne.  I  reached  forth  my 
hand  to  clasp  hers  as  I  answered, — 

"  To  the  death,  madam." 

"  You  still  trust  me  ?"  she  asked,  with  a  hint  of  surprise  in  her  voice. 

"  It  is  impossible  that  I  should  doubt  you,"  I  replied,  with  entire 
seriousness. 

"  I  thank  you  and — believe  you,"  she  said,  as  she  grasped  my  hand 
cordially,  and  her  lips  trembled  as  she  motioned  me  to  a  chair  and 
turned  to  reach  her  own.  When  I  had  seated  myself  and  looked  at 
her  again,  she  held  a  handkerchief  in  one  hand,  and  there  were  traces 
of  tears  upon  her  eyelids. 

"And  now,"  she  said,  as  she  crossed  her  hands  in  her  lap  with. 
16* 


186  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

that  sort  of  helplessness  which  only  a  woman's  hands  can  express,  "  tell 
me  what  I  am  to  do." 

"  Really,  I will  you  be  kind  enough  to  inform  me  what  you  wish 

to  do  ?"  I  asked. 

"  Why,  of  course/7  she  answered,  smiling  constrainedly.  "  You  see 
how  stupid  I  am,  and,  knowing  what  you  do,  will  not  wonder.  I 
want  to  sell  this  house  and  the  furniture,  or  put  it  in  the  hands  of  some 
one  who  will  hold  it  or  sell  it  as  I  may  direct." 

"  Do  you  wish  to  dispose  of  it  absolutely?" 

"  I  do  not  know — I  am  afraid.  It  is  all  I  have,  and  I  should  not 
like  to  be  left  destitute.  It  was  a  present,  as  perhaps  you  know, — a 
present  from " 

"  Before  you  were  married  ?" 

She  bowed,  blushing  painfully. 

"  I  beg  pardon,"  I  said,  "  but,  if  I  am  to  advise,  it  is  necessary  that 
I  should  know  certain  facts." 

"  I  will  answer  any  questions  you  may  ask." 

"  Do  you  know  anything  of  your — of  Mr.  Murray's  circumstances 
at  that  time? — whether  he  was  in  debt  or  not,  I  mean?" 

"  Nothing." 

"  Would  you  be  willing  to  authorize  me  to  make  sale  and  leave  a 
part  of  the  purchase-money  in  my  hands  until  you  might  require  it  ?" 

"  The  whole,"  she  answered,  simply. 

"  Then,  if  you  will  execute  a  power  of  attorney  to  me,  I  think  I 
can  arrange  it." 

"  Please  prepare  whatever  is  necessary,  and  let  me  know  what  I  am 
to  do." 

"Very  well." 

She  rose,  and,  opening  a  drawer  in  an  ebony  desk  that  stood  near 
the  window,  took  from  it  a  bundle  of  papers. 

"  As  you  are  to  be  my  lawyer  as  well  as  my  friend,"  she  said,  "  I 
will  leave  these  with  you." 

She  did  not  resume  her  seat,  and  I  rose  to  take  my  leave,  when  an 
unpleasant  thought  occurred  to  me. 

"In  what  name,"  I  asked,  not  without  embarrassment,  "shall  I 
draw  the  power  of  attorney  ?" 

"  The  name  used  in  the  deed,  I  suppose,"  she  answered,  simply. 

I  bowed  assent. 

"  Good- by,"  I  said,  as  I  extended  my  hand  to  take  leave. 


HOW  I  BECAME  THE   WIDOW'S  ATTORNEY.  187 

She  clasped  it  warmly,  hesitated  an  instant,  and  then  said,  with  a 
slightly-heightened  color, — 

"  Will  you  not  kiss  me  good-by  ?  There  is  no  one  else  to  wish  me 
bon  voyage." 

I  put  my  arm  around  her,  bent  down,  and  kissed  her  lips. 

I  do  not  think  a  man  ever  passed  along  a  city's  streets  with  more 
strangely  conflicting  emotions  than  those  which  filled  my  breast  after 
this  interview.  To  say  that  I  was  unconscious  of  my  surroundings  is 
but  to  state  a  literal  fact.  I  never  knew  how  I  got  to  my  rooms  after 
bidding  Mrs.  Murray  adieu.  My  brain  was  in  a  whirl, — not  of  desper 
ation,  for  I  was  never  inclined  to  romantic  sentiment,  but  of  stupefying 
amazement.  I  had  declared  my  love  for  a  woman  who  had  not  only 
informed  me  that  she  loved  another,  but  also  that  her  relation  to  him 
was  at  least  equivocal,  if  not  absolutely  illegal.  After  such  knowledge 
I  had  consented  to  aid  her  in  what  might  be  a  fraudulent  act,  and  had 
even  held  her  in  my  arms  and  kissed  her.  Worse  than  all,  I  loved  her 
more  than  I  had  ever  done  before,  believed  in  her,  trusted  her,  and  was 
ready  to  do  or  dare  anything  for  her  sake.  I  did  not  deny  this  to  my 
self, — did  not  wish  to  deny  it, — yet  I  was  none  the  less  stunned  and 
overwhelmed  by  it.  I  prepared  the  necessary  papers  and  sent  them  to 
her  that  night,  with  directions  for  their  execution.  The  next  day  I 
received  them  back,  properly  verified,  with  a  letter  of  instructions,  en 
closed  within  which  wras  another.  I  read  it  over  I  know  not  how  many 
times,  but  took  good  care  to  destroy  it  before  I  slept.  I  could  not  bear 
that  a  single  word  of  such  terrible  import  in  her  handwriting  should 
for  a  single  moment  remain  in  existence.  It  was  the  instinct  of  the 
profession  to  destroy  what  might  be  damaging  evidence.  The  story 
the  letter  revealed  was  all  the  more  terrible  for  the  matter-of-fact 
manner  in  which  it  was  told,  yet  I  had  learned  enough  of  life  to  recog 
nize  at  once  its  truth.  I  burned  the  letter,  but  can  repeat  it  almost 
word  for  word  even  now. 

"  MY  DEAK  MR.  FONTAINE, — "  (so  it  began) 

"  You  were  no  doubt  amazed  at  what  I  told  you  yesterday.  Only 
my  surprise  at  your  avowal,  and  a  feeling  that  something  more  than 
mere  rejection  was  due  to  one  who  has  been  so  very  considerate  and 
whom  I  so  highly  esteem,  could  have  induced  me  to  reveal  what  I  did. 


188  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

Having  said  so  much,  it  is  due  both  to  you  and  to  myself  that  I 
should  .say  more. 

"  Of  course  I  cannot  make  it  any  plainer  that  there  can  be  no 
closer  relation  between  us,  and  I  will  not  conceal  from  you  that  it  is 
not  without  regret  that  I  realize  this  fact.  While  I  believe  I  truly 
love  the  man  who  is  known  as  my  husband,  I  am  no  stranger  to  the 
thought  that  I  would  willingly  surrender  all  that  I  have  enjoyed  to  be 
the  wife  of  a  good  man  whose  real  name  I  might  bear  without  doubt 
or  shame. 

"  I  do  not  say  this  to  blame  any  one.  The  fact  that  I  am  in  the 
position  I  now  occupy  is  due  solely  to  my  own  election.  I  was  not  de 
ceived  nor  betrayed,  but  deliberately  chose  the  life  which  now  imposes 
its  harsh  conditions  upon  my  future.  Individually,  no  fault  attaches 
to  any  one, — not  even  to  myself,  as  I  think.  I  was  free  to  act,  and 
made  my  choice  deliberately.  Considering  only  my  social  status,  it 
was  no  doubt  an  error;  judged  by  any  admissible  code  of  morals,  it 
was  nothing  less  than  sin.  I  do  not  blame  society.  A  woman  who 
adopts  the  course  I  did  necessarily  falls  under  its  ban,  and  that  ban  is 
irrevocable.  Her  only  chance  is  to  avoid  its  cognizance.  This  I  have 
done.  To  society  I  am  Mrs.  Murray,  and  as  such  have  always  led  an 
irreproachable  life ;  yet  I  would  not  only  be  an  outcast,  but  one  beyond 
hope  of  rehabilitation,  did  the  world  know  of  me  what  I  have  already 
told  you.  So  highly  do  I  prize  the  honor  of  your  love,  and  so  thor 
oughly  do  I  trust  your  sincerity,  however,  that  I  am  not  only  willing 
but  glad  to  tell  you  more — all,  indeed,  that  there  is  to  tell — of  my 
life. 

"  My  father  was  a  man  of  abundant  means.  I  was  the  only  child, 
and  nothing  that  wealth  or  love  could  compass  was  too  costly  for  me  to 
enjoy.  I  received  what  is  called  a  thorough  education, — graduating 
with  honor  at  a  school  where  a  thousand  dollars  a  year  was  paid  for  my 
board  and  tuition.  Soon  after  my  father  died.  He  left  nothing  for 
the  support  of  his  daughter  and  a  weak,  over-indulged  wife;  but  his 
last  hours  were  soothed  with  the  reflection  that  he  had  at  least  given  me 
a  good  education.  His  death  was  sudden,  and  there  was  no  time  to 
secure  even  a  temporary  provision  for  us.  We  had  no  relatives,  and 
friends  are  not  apt  to  force  themselves  on  people  in  our  condition.  I 
was  proud,  and  did  not  ask  assistance.  Indeed,  I  shared  my  father's 
confidence  in  the  availability  of  my  education  as  a  means  of  support. 
Unfortunately,  I  was  ignorant  of  almost  everything  for  which  people 


HOW  I  BECAME  THE  WIDOW'S  ATTORNEY.  189 

pay  money.  I  was  fit  neither  to  be  a  servant  nor  a  clerk.  I  might 
have  taught,  but  there  were  so  many  before  me,  and  we  could  not  wait. 
I  tried  to  write, — stories,  of  course, — and  had  just  success  enough  to 
make  me  hope  that  I  might  achieve  more.  Finally  I  became  a  sales 
woman, — still  trying  to  write  after  my  day's  work  was  done.  It  was  a 
hard  life.  After  a  time  there  was  difficulty  with  my  employers.  I  know 
the  reason  now  ;  then  I  did  not  guess  it.  My  immediate  superior  was 
quick  to  note  the  loss  of  favor,  and  one  day  I  was  bitterly  reproved  for 
some  trivial  fault  in  the  presence  of  several  customers.  After  the  scene 
was  over,  a  man  who  had  witnessed  it  came  to  my  counter,  made  some 
slight  purchase,  and,  as  he  received  his  change,  slipped  a  card  into  my 
hand.  I  put  it  in  my  pocket,  lest  any  one  should  see  it.  Had  I  read 
it  then, — well,  there  is  no  knowing  what  would  have  occurred.  That 
night  I  was  discharged. 

"  Long  after  my  mother  was  asleep  I  sat  before  the  grate  in  the 
little  room  my  labor  had  provided  for  us,  wondering  what  we  should  do. 
Taking  my  handkerchief  from  my  pocket  to  dry  my  tears,  the  card  fell 
upon  the  floor.  I  took  it  up,  and  read, — 

"  '  If  you  at  any  time  need  a  friend,  address 

" '  ANDERSON  MURRAY, 

"'P.O.  Box  129, 

"  '  New  York/ 

"I  tossed  it  aside  half-doubtfully  and  half- indignantly.  Within  a 
week  I  wrote.  Hunger  tames  one's  spirit  very  quickly, — especially  the 
hunger  of  one  like  her  who  was  dependent  upon  my  efforts.  Already  I 
had  learned  that  my  face  was  an  obstacle  in  the  way  of  obtaining  honest 
employment,  and  a  constant  incentive  to  proposals  which  society  would 
count  me  an  outcast  for  accepting,  but  would  hardly  find  a  word  of 
censure  for  the  man  who  offered. 

"  I  do  not  care  to  tell  what  I  suffered  :  it  was  no  more  than  others, 
hundreds  and  thousands  quite  as  worthy  as  I,  have  undergone  and  are 
now  undergoing.  I  was  no  heroine.  I  could  neither  endure  hunger 
nor  my  mother's  tears.  Almost  a  fortnight  had  elapsed  when  I  received 
an  answer  to  my  letter.  It  was  written  in  evident  haste,  and  merely 
enclosed  a  bank-bill,  saying  that  the  writer  had  to  leave  at  once  for  the 
West,  and  sent  the  bill  as  an  apology  for  any  disappointment  that  might 
have  occurred  through  his  delay.  If  I  did  not  obtain  satisfactory  em- 


100  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

ployment  within  a  reasonable  time,  he  hoped  I  would  write  again  :  he 
might  have  something  to  propose  which  I  would  at  least  deem  better 
than  starvation. 

"  I  failed  to  get  employment,  and  so  wrote  a  second  time.  The  reply 
I  received  was  at  least  candid.  He  wanted  a  companion  who  was  at 
tractive  and  would  be  agreeable.  There  was  no  pretence  of  love  or 
favor, — no  misrepresentation  of  facts.  He  would  provide  handsomely 
for  me  and  make  a  definite  allowance  for  my  mother.  He  did  not  wish 
to  take  any  advantage  of  my  necessity,  and  enclosed  enough  to  support 
us  while  I  sought  other  employment  if  I  was  unwilling  to  consider  his 
proposal.  I  "felt  angry  and  humiliated;  yet  I  will  confess  there  was 
something  about  his  brutal  plainness  that  did  not  altogether  displease 
me;  and  when  our  condition  finally  became  unbearable,  I  made  an 
appointment  with  him  and  listened  to  what  he  had  to  say  in  detail. 
His  proposals  were  distinct  enough.  He  was  a  married  man  who  lived 
unhappily, — he  did  not  say  why,  and  I  never  asked.  He  wanted  a 
home  to  which  he  could  run  away  and  where  he  could  be  undisturbed. 
He  wished  to  exercise  no  compulsion  over  me.  It  would  be  necessary, 
in  order  to  avoid  unpleasant  remarks,  that  I  should  be  understood  to 
be  his  wife;  but  he  would  only  expect  me  to  be  his  housekeeper.  This 
last  assurance  alone  I  did  not  credit. 

"  I  consented,  believing  that  I  was  selling  myself  body  and  soul  to 
him  ;  but  my  mother  must  live,  and — why  not  him  as  well  as  another? 
I  was  foolish,  no  doubt,  but  six  months  of  the  downward  road  that  lies 
before  cultured  poverty  had  made  me  desperate.  He  had  built  this 
house  in  the  mean  time,  sending  me  the  plans  and  consulting  me  as  to 
its  furnishing.  When  I  left  my  mother  and  came  on  alone,  he  met 
me  at  the  train,  brought  me  to  it,  and  installed  me  as  its  mistress.  He 
told  the  domestics  that  I  was  his  young  wife  who  wished  to  pursue  her 
studies  for  a  time  before  going  on  to  his  Western  home.  After  dinner 
he  explained  the  details  of  the  menage,  gave  me  a  check-book  and 
bank-book,  and  declared  that  it  was  necessary  that  he  should  take 
the  next  train  for  the  West.  It  was  weeks  before  I  saw  him  again, 
and  then  hardly  for  an  hour.  Meantime,  I  managed  the  little  house, 
and  came  to  have  a  curious  liking  for  my  strangely  blunt  but  con 
siderate  gallant.  To  justify  his  words,  I  studied,  and  in  every  respect 
sought  to  make  the  place  attractive  as  well  as  to  secure  the  pleasant 
regard  of  the  best  people  in  the  vicinity.  How  well  I  succeeded  you 
know.  I  did  this  less  for  my  own  sake  than  for  his.  I  was  neither 


HOW  I  BECAME  THE   WIDOW'S  ATTORNEY.  191 

stingy  nor  lavish  of  his  money, — sending  to  ray  mother  weekly  only  the 
amount  agreed  upon.  He  wrote  to  me  quite  frequently,  and  I  to  him, 
at  different  places.  This  was  necessary  to  keep  up  appearances.  His 
letters  were  always  pleasant  and  respectful,  keeping  up  so  well  the 
fiction  of  their  superscription  that  I  soon  came  to  look  for  them  with  no 
little  pleasure. 

"  At  length  I  began  to  write  again,  merely  to  occupy  my  leisure 
time,  and  in  the  course  of  a  few  months  had  completed  a  novel,  the 
manuscript  of  which  I  sent  to  him.  I  hardly  know  why,  I  knew  I 
was  his  slave, — a  sort  of  harem-pet, — destined,  no  doubt,  to  the  bow 
string  when  he  should  withdraw  his  favor, — but  somehow  I  wished  him 
to  be  proud  even  of  his  dependant.  I  did  not  chafe  at  my  chains.  I 
had  not  been  coerced  nor  deceived;  my  mother  was  content  with  the 
abundance  I  provided,  and  I  did  not  shrink  from  contemplating  what 
our  relations  might  become,  as  I  had  once  done.  He  secured  a  much 
more  advantageous  contract  for  the  publication  of  my  book  than  I  could 
have  done.  It  was  a  hit,  and  when  he  asked  permission  to  come  and 
see  me  again  he  brought  a  check  from  Kydd  &  Crew,  the  publishers, 
for  a  much  larger  amount  than  I  had  ever  expected  to  receive,  as  well 
as  an  offer  for  steady  employment.  Out  of  my  earnings  I  asked  to  be 
allowed  to  discharge  the  pecuniary  favors  I  had  received  at  his  hand 
and  dissolve  our  relations  with  each  other. 

"He  did  not  object,  and  I  thanked  him  with  all  the  warmth  I  felt. 
I  told  him  I  would  leave  the  house  the  next  day,  but  he  opened  a  little 
drawer  in  my  desk  which  I  had  never  found,  took  out  the  deed,  placed 
it  in  my  hands,  and  went  away,  grateful,  he  said,  that  he  left  me  no 
more  unpleasant  memento  of  our  acquaintance  than  a  name  which  might 
be  found  convenient  until  I  should  choose  to  exchange  it  for  another, 
since  a  widow  was  always  better  situated  in  society  than  a  young  girl 
who  depended  on  her  own  exertions.  I  did  not  then  understand  the 
full  significance  of  his  words.  I  have  since  had  reason  to  believe  that 
his  action  had  made  me  really  his  wife.  Perhaps  the  law  will  so  decide 
some  day,  at  least. 

"  From  that  hour  to  this  I  have  earned  my  own  livelihood.  Mr. 
Murray  has  never  visited  me  except  at  my  invitation.  I  have  learned 
to  love  the  man  I  expected  to  hate.  The  story  of  his  death  wTas  con 
cocted  by  him  merely  to  leave  me  free  to  begin  a  new  life.  I  -cannot  do 
it.  His  magnanimity  has  made  me  a  slave  to  whom  service  is  a  delight. 
I  know  nothing  more  of  him  than  he  has  chosen  to  reveal,  and  do  not 


192  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

ask  to  be  further  informed.  "Whether  his  name  is  the  one  I  bear  or  not 
I  cannot  tell,  though  I  would  rather  be  what  I  am  taken  for,  than  any 
thing  else  in  the  world.  But,  whether  his  wife  or  not,  he  shall  never 
lack  for  wifely  devotion  while  I  live. 

"  He  is  now  ill,  and  I  am  going  abroad  to  help,  if  I  can,  in  his 
recovery.  I  do  not  know  how  long  I  shall  be  absent,  nor  under  what 
circumstances  I  may  return,  but  you  may  rest  assured,  Mr.  Fontaine, 
that  I  shall  always  retain  a  warm  regard  for  one  who  has  shown  him 
self  so  worthy  of  esteem,  and  I  trust  that  you  will  remember  me  with 
something  of  kindness,  despite  this  perhaps  too  frank  revelation  of  the 
story  of  my  life. 

"  Most  sincerely, 

"  AGNES  P.  E . 

«  p.S. — I  sail  by  the  Etruria,  on  Saturday." 

I  took  Mr.  Burrill,  who  had  long  been  talking  of  buying  a  home,  to 
see  the  house  the  next  day,  and  had  no  difficulty  in  effecting  a  sale  which 
put  a  snug  sum  in  bank  to  Mrs.  Murray's  account.  When  Saturday  came 
I  sent  her  a  more  costly  bouquet  than  I  had  ever  dreamed  of  purchasing 
before,  and  was  on  the  dock  when  she  arrived.  I  did  not  speak  to  her, 
and  do  not  know  that  she  saw  me.  I  did  not  intend  she  should.  My 
infatuation  had  gone  so  far  that  I  was  anxious  only  to  see  the  man  who 
was  to  accompany  her,  who  I  sincerely  hoped  might  be  beyond  hope  of 
recovery.  She  arrived  two  hours  before  the  steamer  sailed,  but  I  saw 
no  more  of  her  until  the  bell  had  rung,  warning  those  not  passengers  to 
go  ashore.  Placing  myself  where  I  would  be  screened  from  observation, 
I  watched  her  carefully.  Just  as  the  plank  was  being  drawn  in,  a 
carriage  drove  up,  and  a  man  was  lifted  from  it  and  assisted  up  the 
gangway.  As  soon  as  she  saw  him  I  knew  he  was  the  one  she  was 
expecting,  and  when  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  his  profile  I  was  not  sur 
prised  to  recognize  the  man  known  as  Anderson  Murray. 

"  Well/7  said  a  gentleman  standing  beside  me,  "  if  that  man  wasn't 
so  feeble  I  would  swear  it  was  Hazzard ;  but  I  saw  him  in  Wall  Street 
only  yesterday,  looking  as  stout  as  a  buck,  so  of  course  it  cannot  be." 

"  Hazzard  !"  I  exclaimed.  "  You  don't  mean ?"  I  paused,  as 

if  unable  to  recall  the  full  name. 

"  I  mean  Andrew  M.  Hazzard,  the  sewing-machine  man  :  there  is 
but  one  Hazzard  in  Wall  Street, — that  is,"  he  added,  with  a  smile, 
"  only  one  which  is  spelled  with  two  z's." 


HOW  I  BECAME  THE  WIDOW'S  ATTORNEY.  103 

He  sauntered  off,  well  pleased  with  his  quip,  leaving  me  to  wonder 
what  relation  there  might  be  between  Mr.  Swallow's  client  and  Mrs. 
Murray's  supposititious  Jiusband. 

The  passenger-list  of  the  steamer  published  the  next  morning  con 
tained  the  name  of  Mr.  Andrew  M.  Hazzard,  but  no  other  that  was  at 
all  familiar  to  me. 

"So  you  are  bound  to  sue  for  a  divorce,  are  you?"  said  Mr. 
Swallow,  a  few  days  afterwards,  to  a  member  of  a  well-known  legal 
firm  with  whom  he  had  been  in  close  consultation  for  half  an  hour. 

"  That's  just  what  we  are  going  to  do,"  said  the  other,  emphatically. 

"  You  think  he  will  pay  hush-money,  I  suppose  ?"  said  the  Junior, 
with  a  sneer. 

"We  do  not  think  he  ought  to  squander  all  his  estate  on  this 
woman  he  has  taken  with  him,"  was  the  quiet  response. 

"  You  know  very  well  your  client  dare  not  come  to  trial,  and  that 
Hazzard  does  not  admit  any  relationship  to  the  children, — some  of 
them,  at  least." 

"  Pshaw  !     Why  don't  he  sue  for  a  divorce,  then  ?" 

"  He  has  been  willing  to  assent  to  a  separation  witli  a  fair  allow 
ance  for  these  ten  years  that  he  has  lived  away  from  her." 

"  That  is  too  thin  :  we  want  more  than  that, — a  widow's  share,  at 
least.  Of  course  we'll  get  it  by  waiting,  unless  he  sells  out ;  and  he 
cannot  do  that  while  the  suit  is  pending  :  we'll  take  care  of  that." 

"That  cock  won't  fight,"  said  Mr.  Swallow.  "I'll  tell  you  what 
you  can  do,  Stirling.  You  can  get  a  good  settlement, — a  half-million, 
possibly  more, — and  that  is  all  you  can  do." 

^  Oh,  no,"  said  the  other,  confidently.  "  We  can  wait, — wait  until 
he  is  dead,  you  know." 

"  And  then  what  ?" 

"  Why,  the  widow  will  get  her  allowance,  anyhow." 

"  The  widow  !     Yes,  but  your  client  will  not  be  his  widow." 

"Will  not?     Why?" 

"  Because  she  has  never  been  his  wife  !" 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"^When  Hazzard  married  your  client,  he  had  a  wife  yet  living,  who 
has  since  died.  Since  her  death  he  has  not  been  under  the  same  roof 
with  your  client,  and  can  account  for  every  minute  of  his  time.  Do 
you  understand  ?" 

17  I 


194  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

"  The  infernal  scoundrel !"  exclaimed  the  other. 
"  It  is  not  my  business  to  defend  or  excuse  his  conduct,"  said  the 
Junior,  with  the  twinkle  in  his  eyes  that  always  attends  victory,  "  but 
if  anything  could,  it  would  be  the  conduct  of  your  client.     When  you 
get  ready  to  settle,  come  round  and  I  will  talk  with  you.     Our  man  is 
willing  to  be  liberal,  but  you  will  have  to  tie  your  client's  hands  before 
he  will  open  his.     You  understand  ?     Well,  good-by." 
1        I  too  said  good-by  to  the  foolish  hopes  I  had  cherished,  quite  un 
conscious  that  I  had  at  length  set  my  foot  on  the  first  rung  of  Fortune's 
ladder. 


X. 

"MISSIONARY  JOE." 

IT  was  at  the  little  country  inn  at  Moccason  Gap,  where  the  discom 
forts  of  life  were  distributed  with  the  utmost  partiality  to  all,  that 
I  met  "Missionary  Joe."  I  had  gone  South  to  represent  Gauge  & 
Swallow  in  the  trial  of  Burrill  vs.  the  Railroad  Company.  Every  one 
in  the  office  supposed  that  Mr.  Burrill  would  prefer  to  look  after  this 
case  himself,  but  at  the  last  moment  it  was  discovered  that  the  high- 
minded  old  gentleman  felt  an  unconquerable  aversion  for  even  witness 
ing  the  trial  of  a  cause  in  which  he  appeared  as  a  party,  and  I  was 
sent  in  his  stead.  The  facts  of  the  case  were  not  supposed  to  be  at  all 
complicated,  but,  as  it  was  thought  that  some  of  the  law-points  raised 
might  receive  the  attention  even  of  the  court  of  last  resort,  it  was  de 
sirable  to  exercise  the  utmost  care  in  the  trial  below,  in  order  that  the 
facts  might  be  fully  ascertained  and  the  points  fairly  presented.  As 
usual,  the  brief  of  Mr.  Burrill  was  exhaustive.  Armed  with  that,  I 
should  have  been  ready  to  try  the  case  on  my  arrival,  almost  without 
consultation  with  my  able  associate,  Colonel  Bagster. 

Burrill  vs.  The  Railroad  was  one  of  that  most  interesting  class  of 
cases  which  the  lawyer  meets,  depending  on  the  construction  of  a  written 
instrument,  and  involving  numerous  subordinate  issues,  both  of  law  and 
fact.  Stated  in  brief,  the  case  was  this.  The  heirs  of  Holt  had  conveyed 
to  the  plaintiff  certain  lands,  which  had  previously  been  aliened  by  the 
ancestor  to  the  defendant  corporation  in  a  deed  of  gift,  the  conditions  of 
which,  it  was  alleged,  had  been  broken,  whereby  the  title  had  reverted 
to  the  heir.  These  conditions  were  that  the  "  shops  of  the  company" 
should  be  built  on  the  lands  in  question,  and  "  no  store  for  the  sale  of 
dry-goods,  groceries,  or  supplies  should  be  opened  on  the  said  lands." 
Our  claim  was  that  these  conditions  ran  with  the  lands,  and  a  violation 
of  either,  by  the  donors  or  those  holding  under  them,  invalidated  the 
defendants'  title.  The  defendants  alleged  estoppel  in  pais,  the  statute 

195 


196  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

of  limitation,  and  that  the  conditions  themselves  were  in  contravention 
of  public  policy.  The  professional  man  will  have  no  difficulty  in 
gathering  from  this  syllabus  the  probability  that  a  wealthy  corporation 
might  be  able  to  make  good  some  of  its  defences,  and  the  important 
consequences  that  resulted  from  my  accidental  acquaintance  with  "  Mis 
sionary  Joe." 

The  life  of  Moccason  Gap,  so  far  as  I  could  see,  was  dependent 
chiefly  on  the  terms  of  court,  that  were  held  four  times  a  year  in  the 
little  squat  brick  edifice  that  stood  upon  the  public  square,  with  its  ojv 
posite  doors  looking  up  and  down  the  big  road,  the  respective  ends 
of  which  led  to  the  neighboring  hamlets,  known  in  common  parlance 
by  the  euphonious  names  of  Shake  Rag  and  Slick  Tail.  A  little  be 
yond  flowed  the  streams  humorously  christened  Polecat  and  Stinking 
Quarter,  with  a  post-office  appropriately  named  Hartshorn  situated 
midway  between  them.  During  court- week  the  little  town  was  popu 
lous  and  prosperous,  the  inn,  of  course,  being  the  centre  of  population, 
if  not  the  chief  recipient  of  this  recurrent  prosperity ;  but  the  lawyers, 
officers  of  the  court,  and  even  the  merchants,  as  well  as  the  landlord, 
looked  forward  to  the  coming  of  the  judge  as  an  epoch  when  prosperity 
should  wipe  out  the  memory  of  the  dull  and  profitless  interval  since 
his  last  departure.  On  such  occasions  "  Missionary  Joe"  was  certain 
to  be  among  the  first  arrivals,  having  long  been  regarded  as  a  "  stated 
supply"  by  the  successive  proprietors  who  had  made  the  Moccason  Gap 
Hotel  a  temporary  stopping-place  on  the  road  from  official  affluence  to 
disappointed  poverty.  The  place  had  often  changed  owners,  but  the 
sign,  the  fare,  and  "  Missionary  Joe"  remained  permanent  attractions 
from  term  to  term,  as  if  they  had  been  judicially  recognized  for  their 
appearance  under  a  statutory  penalty  "  to  be  levied  of  their  goods  and 
chattels,  lands  and  tenements,"  in  case  of  failure. 

"  Missionary  Joe"  was  a  negro,  or,  as  it  is  called  in  that  region,  a 
"  nigger,"  but  of  so  "likely"  a  character  that  jurors,  witnesses,  lawyers, 
and  even  the  judge  greeted  him  not  only  with  apparent  satisfaction,  but 
with  evident  respect.  He  was  indeed,  as  I  soon  learned,  the  reliable 
guarantor  of  the  inn's  character.  No  matter  whose  name  was  on  the 
sign,  all  the  guests  looked  to  "  Missionary  Joe"  for  the  supply  of  their 
creature  comforts.  Morning  and  evening,  day  and  night,  calls  for 
"  Joe"  echoed  almost  constantly  along  the  corridors  of  the  old  inn,  but 
they  were  universally  good-natured,  and,  if  coupled  sometimes  with 
profanity,  it  was  sure  to  be  of  that  kindly  sort  which  is  intended  as 


"MISSIONARY  JOE."  197 

a  compliment  rather  than  a  rebuke.  How  he  managed  to  attend  to 
them  all  I  could  not  imagine ;  but  after  two  weeks'  experience  of  his 
administrations  during  a  term  of  the  circuit  court  I  could  well  appre 
ciate  his  modest  boast  that  "  de  gen'lemen  wouldn't  know  how  ter  git 
along  widout  ole  Joe." 

From  scraps  of  conversation  I  learned  that,  boy  and  man,  he  had 
attended  every  term  of  court  for  nearly  half  a  century,  except  during 
an  absence  to  which  everybody  referred  as  a  matter  of  almost  as  much 
public  notoriety  as  the  fact  that  a  part  of  the  inn  dated  back  to  pre-Rev- 
olutionary  times,  when  Cornwallis  slept  a  night  in  the  "judge's  room," 
while  the  muskets  of  his  men  were  stacked  about  the  oak  which  yet 
dropped  its  acorns  on  the  moss-grown  roof,  as  if  to  call  the  startled 
sleeper's  attention  to  the  reverence  due  to  its  fruitful  age  and  notable 
experience.  It  had  shadowed  three  flags  in  its  time  and  seen  one  of 
them  drive  both  the  others  from  the  land. 

And  for  half  its  life  "  Missionary  Joe"  had  been  a  familiar  presence 
in  its  menage,  first  as  a  bright  boy,  who  came  riding  behind  his  master, 
old  Colonel  Hoyt,  the  magnate  of  the  county,  who  owned  more  "  land 
and  niggers"  than  any  other  whose  name  was  on  the  tax-list  in  the 
sheriff's  office,  but  who  was  so  wild  in  his  young  days  that  it  was  said 
of  his  wife,  whose  maiden  name  was  Susan  Holt,  that  she  had  exem 
plified  the  old  saw, — 

Change  the  name,  but  not  the  letter ; 
Change  for  worse  and  not  for  better. 

He  was  a  man  of  unsullied  honor,  given  to  gaming  and  sport,  and 
of  already  failing  fortunes,  when  he  first  brought  Joe  to  court  to  wait 
especially  on  himself  and  such  of  his  friends  as  he  might  be  directed 
to  serve.  His  wife,  Miss  Susan,  had  been  in  delicate  health  ever  since 
the  birth  of  their  only  child,  Tom,  then  a  lad  a  few  years  older  than 
the  boy  Joe. 

Negro  as  he  was,  "Missionary  Joe"  somehow  impressed  me  with  a 
sense  of  self-respectfulness  not  often  seen  in  one  of  any  race  or  condi 
tion.  He  was  a  born  servitor.  Call  him  when  you  might,  and  for 
what  purpose,  when  he  had  taken  your  orders  he  was  sure  to  give  a 
touch  to  the  fire  in  the  wide  fireplace  and  brush  up  the  hearth  with  the 
waving  sedge-grass  broom  that  always  stood  beside  the  jamb.  Yet  it 
seemed  as  if  he  ought  not  to  have  been  a  negro.  Though  dark  enough 
to  make  his  race  unmistakable,  he  was  not  exactly  black,  his  complexion 
having  a  sort  of  grayish  cast,  like  the  seams  of  an  ancient  coat  from 
17* 


198  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

which  the  color  has  worn  away  by  long  exposure ;  rather  below  the  me 
dium  height,  of  slender  build,  yet  showing  great  activity,  and  somehow 
giving  the  impression  of  strength  and  endurance.  His  features  were 
regular,  mouth  firm,  chin  square,  with  eyes  quick-moving  and  so  hidden 
under  overhanging  brows  that  I  do  not  even  now  know  their  color.  I 
can  only  remember  their  bright  flashing  which  gave  his  countenance  a 
look  of  unusual  alertness.  A  bit  of  gray  whisker  just  before  each  ear, 
and  a  skirt  of  white  hair  fringing  the  faded  black  tonsure  which  time 
had  marked  upon  his  poll,  complete  the  picture  of  "  Missionary  Joe." 

Though  well  past  middle  life  at  emancipation,  he  was  owner  of  a 
snug  homestead,  and  had  managed  to  acquire  what  for  one  in  his  station 
was  even  more  than  a  competence.  "  Needn't  work  a  lick  ef  he  don' 
want  ter,"  was  the  verdict  of  one  of  his  fellow-servants.  He  came  to 
the  hotel  during  court-week  to  carve,  black  boots,  build  fires,  and  wait 
upon  the  guests  generally,  both  because  he  found  it  pleasant  and  profit 
able,  no  doubt,  and  also  because  no  one  else  could  do  so  many  things, 
and  do  them  all  so  well,  and  thereby  save  the  proprietor  so  much  money 
and  so  much  blame. 

This  much  I  had  learned  of  "  Missionary  Joe"  during  the  two  weeks 
I  waited  for  our  case  to  be  called.  The  defendants  were  not  foolish 
enough  to  press  for  trial  where  they  had  everything  to  lose  and  nothing 
to  gain.  It  was  almost  Christmas,  and  judge  and  lawyers  were  all 
anxious  to  be  at  home.  At  the  last  minute,  therefore,  our  case  was  put 
over  until  the  next  term,  and  before  night  judge,  lawyers,  and  witnesses 
had  disappeared  and  Moccason  Gap  had  fallen  back  to  the  dead  level 
of  its  ordinary  loneliness.  As  I  did  not  care  to  brave  the  fatigues  of  a 
ride  of  twenty  miles  at  night  in  order  to  reach  the  station,  I  concluded 
to  wait  until  the  next  day,  and  as  a  matter  of  special  favor  was  in 
stalled  in  the  "judge's  room"  after  his  departure.  The  night  was  cold 
and  rainy,«and  the  deserted  inn  seemed  lonely  enough. 

"  Get  old  Joe  to  tell  you  his  story.  You  will  find  it  well  worth 
waiting  for,"  had  been  the  hurried  greeting  of  my  associate,  as  he 
gathered  up  the  reins  for  his  homeward  drive. 

But  Joe's  duties  in  "  setting  things  to  rights"  about  the  inn  had 
apparently  left  that  worthy  in  no  mood  for  conversation,  for,  beyond 
one  or  two  hasty  visits  to  look  after  the  fire  and  inquire  about  my 
wants,  I  saw  nothing  of  him  that  night.  I  went  to  sleep  listening  to 
the  groaning  and  creaking  of  the  old  oak,  heartily  sick  of  my  expe 
rience. 


"MISSIONARY  JOE."  199 

The  next  morning  a  wonderful  sight  presented  itself  to  my  view. 
One  of  the  terrible  sleet-storms  to  which  the  region  is  subject  had 
come  in  the  night,  and  everything  was  coated  with  crystal.  The  sun 
shone  dazzlingly,  but  the  wind  blew,  and  the  air  was  vocal  with  the 
groans  of  overloaded  trees  and  the  crash  of  broken  limbs.  It  was  a 
rare  sight,  but  I  did  not  enjoy  it.  All  nature  was  encased  in  a  glitter 
ing  diamond  mail,  and  I  hardly  needed  the  assurance  of  the  landlord 
to  know  that  the  roads  were  impassable.  Leading  as  they  did  through 
miles  of  unbroken  forest,  I  well  knew  that  the  weight  of  sleet  which 
bent  the  glittering  arms  of  the  great  oak  until  they  rested  on  the  roof 
or  barred  the  passage  along  the  sidewalk  would  render  travel  along 
them  not  only  uncertain  but  perilous.  As  the  next  day  was  Sunday, 
when  the  trains  did  not  run,  I  concluded  to  make  the  best  of  the  situa 
tion  and  remain  a  prisoner  at  the  inn  until  Monday,  my  only  conso 
lation  being  the  assurance  of  "  Missionary  Joe"  that,  "  ef  'twould  be 
agreeable,"  he  would  "  come  an'  set  a  spell  with  me"  that  night. 

It  was  a  clear,  cold  night  that  followed.  The  moon  lit  up  the  icy 
coating  of  the  trees,  whose  flashing  branches  the  wind  tossed  about, 
making  hideous  meanings  which  mocked  the  universal  adornment. 
The  frost  crept  sharply  in  at  the  joints  of  the  old  hostel.  In  this  very 
room,  Joe  said,  Cornwallis  had  once  slept.  The  warm  yellow-pine  ceil 
ing  was  of  later  date,  but  it  was  mellowed  by  smoke  and  age  until,  with 
the  uncertain  glimmering  of  the  lamp  and  firelight,  it  was  not  hard  to 
imagine  that  the  great  splint-bottomed  rocker  in  which  I  sat  had  held 
the  leaguered  general  whose  furious  dash  for  safety  had  only  led  him 
into  the  infrangible  toils  of  disaster.  The  hundred  years  that  had 
elapsed  since  the  historic  event  seemed  to  spread  themselves  out  before 
me  as  I  watched  the  flaring  light-wood  fire  and  listened  to  the  whis 
tling  wind,  the  creaking  limbs,  and  the  icicles  falling  on  the  low  roof. 
Somehow  Joe  and  I  seemed  types  of  two  contrasted  products  of  the 
New  World's  newest  life.  Without  solicitation,  he  had  brought  me 
the  crowning  evidence  of  hospitality  in  that  region,  a  bottle  of  peach 
brandy,  with  its  peculiar  fragrance,  which  calls  up  at  once  thoughts  of 
the  orchard  and  the  grave, — that  faint  odor  of  bitter  almonds  which 
marks  the  distilled  product  of  the  peach  through  every  stage  until  its 
potency  informs  the  body  of  the  victim  with  a  pungent  testimony  which 
makes  the  knife  of  the  surgeon  unnecessary  in  determining  the  cause 
of  death.  More  because  it  seemed  to  please  him  to  prepare  it  than 
from  any  desire  to  imbibe  the  deceptive  mixture,  I  sipped  the  amber 


200  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

fluid,  of  such  exquisite  flavor  but  direful  effects,  known  to  the  country 
side  as  "  peach  and  honey."  Upon  asking  the  old  man  to  partake  of 
the  beverage  he  had  provided  for  me,  he  modestly  declined  : 

"  'Scuse  me,  sah ;  I  neber  tastes  nothin'  o'  dat  sort  when  I's  well, 
'cept  one  glass  o'  nog  uv  a  Chris'mus  mornin'.  Yer  don't  fin'  sech 
tipple  ez  dat  in  de  Norf,  sah, — leastwise,  not  much  ob  it.  Yer  see,  hit 
needs  ter  be  made  in  th'  ole  plantation  way,  'thout  breakin'  de  pits, 
so's  ter  git  the  pizen  out ;  an'  den,  ter  be  rale  fus'-rate,  hit  do  need 
'e  genuwine  sour-wood  honey  like  that  thar,  cut  outen  a  poplar  limb 
widout  no  sniokin'  er  smudgin'  ter  kill  de  bees.  No  mistake,  hit  do 
hev  a  better  flaver'n  one  can  ever  git  outen  a  comb  dat's  made  in  a 
gum  settin'  on  a  bench  inside  de  yard  gate.  Ain't  no  doubt  'bout 
dat." 

"  Ever  been  at  the  North,  Joe  ?"  I  asked,  glad  of  an  opportunity 
to  turn  the  conversation  into  the  channel  I  desired. 

"  La,  yes,  Mistah  Fontaine,  you  knows  dat.  I  'low  de  mistis  tole 
you  'fore  you  got  so  you  could  tell  me  from  ary  other  nigger  'bout  de 
house.  Dey's  allus  sure  ter  do  dat  when  ennybody's  here  from  de  Norf. 
I  can't  objeck,  'kase  hit's  'mos'  always  wuth  as  much  as  one  day's  wuk, 
an'  sometimes  more,  ter  me;  an'  ole  Joe  ain't  a  bit  above  takin'  a 
gen'leman's  money,  long's  it's  his  own  an'  given  uv  his  '  own  free  will 
an'  accord,'  as  the  Masons  say." 

A  smile  flickered  about  the  thin  lips,  lifting  the  corners  of  the  gray 
moustache  as  he  glanced  sharply  at  me  to  see  if  I  comprehended  this 
irregular  hailing-sign  of  the  craft. 

"  I  presume,  then,  you  are  a  Mason  ?"  I  inquired. 

His  face  lighted  up  as  he  saw  that  I  understood  his  sly  allusion, 
and  he  replied,  blandly, — 

"  Wai,  ob  co'se  I's  what  you'd  call  a  '  clan  destin,'  but  all  de  same 
we  understand  each  other.  Yeh  see,  a  niggah  hez  ter  take  his  Masonry 
an'  his  religion  wid  a  tech  of  bitter  in  'em,  fer  fear  he  should  fergit  they 
warn't  made  fer  him,  an'  he  ain't  'lowed  ter  take  the  bes'  part,  but 
must  be  content  wid  the  white  man's  leavin's  and  scrapin's.  I  wouldn't 
mention  sech  a  thing  to  a  South'n  gen'leman, — like  ez  not  hit  mought 
anger  him,  yer  know ;  an'  I  wouldn't  'spect  you  to  recognize  me, — Ma- 
sonically,  I  mean.  I  knows  yer  can't,  'kase  I  warn't  '  free-born,'  yer 
see,  though  the  Gran'  Lodge  of  Englan'  managed  to  git  over  dat,  an', 
so  fur  ez  I  kin  see,  the  ancient  York  rite  hez  come  down  ter  us  jest 


"MISSIONARY  JOE."  201 

'bout  ez  straight  ez  Lit  hez  ter  you.  In  fac',  I'm  'clined  ter  think  you 
white  folks  are  de  rale  '  clan  destins,'  a'ter  all." 

The  old  man  chuckled,  evidently  glad  to  talk  about  the  lodge  of 
which  he  was  the  Master,  he  said,  but  I  recalled  him  with  a  reference 
to  an  incident  in  his  life  of  which  I  had  received  more  than  one  hint 
and  was  anxious  to  have  fuller  information : 

"  It  would  have  been  a  good  thing  for  you,  Joe,  if  you  had  been  a 
Mason  when  you  went  to  California,  wouldn't  it  ?" 

"  Hush !"  said  the  old  man,  with  a  startled  look.  He  rose,  and, 
opening  the  door,  peered  out  into  the  dark  hall.  "  I  thought  I  done 
heerd  some  one  gwine  'long  dat  entry-way :  I  did,  shore.  Hit's  a  good 
thing  ter  be  well  tiled  when  we  talk  'bout  secrets,  marster.  What 
made  you  ax  dat  question,  sah  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know :  naturally  enough,  I  suppose." 

"  Do  you  know,  boss,  I  ain't  hed  seen  a  start  ez  dat  give  me  in 
many  a  day?  Yer  see,  I  hain't  neber  da'st  breathe  a  word  'bout 
the  matter,  but  hit's  so  long  ago  thet  nobody  can't  be  hurt  now,  an' 
ef  you'll  receive  it — I  won't  say  '  on  the  squar','  fer  dat  'ud  be  un- 
Masonic  fer  you — but  ez  ef  hit  was  'on  the  squar',' — I  don'  min' 
tellin'  you  a  Masonic  secret,  the  like  uv  which  I  reckon  you  neber 
heerd  afore." 

I  satisfied  the  old  man's  scruples,  and  he  went  on,  lowering  his 
voice  almost  to  a  whisper  and  bending  close  to  my  ear  as  I  leaned  back 
in  the  great  rocker  he  had  braced  up  with  a  stick  of  wood : 

"  The  fact  is,  marster,  Iwuz  a  Mason  when  I  went  to  Calif orny  /" 

If  the  old  man  calculated  on  producing  a  sensation,  he  succeeded 
admirably.  A  Mason  will  readily  understand  the  effect  of  such  a  dec 
laration  upon  one  familiar  with  the  traditions  of  the  craft.  I  was 
aware  that  clandestine  Masonry  existed  among  the  freedmen,  and  had 
heard  the  tales  which  float  among  the  brethren  of  the  mystic  tie,  of 
Washington  sitting  in  a  lodge  tiled  by  a  colored  man,  one  of  his  own 
soldiers,  who  had  been  "  made,"  "  passed,"  and  "  raised"  in  a  lodge 
which  existed  among  the  white  slaves  of  the  Barbadoes.  I  had  heard, 
too,  of  colored  slaves,  imported  from  Africa,  appealing  to  loyal  crafts 
men  with  the  hailing-sign  of  a  brother  and  being  released  from  bondage 
by  virtue  of  the  "  obligation."  Was  I  about  to  strike  another  phase 
of  this  mysterious  and  world-wide  fact  witnessed  by  the  level  and  the 
square  ?  Had  this  man  gotten  the  mysteries  from  dark-skinned  ances- 

I* 


202  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

tors  who  had  received  the  mystic  rites  on  some  foreign  strand  ?  As  soon 
as  I  could  recover  from  my  amazement,  therefore,  I  said, — 

"  But  you  were  a  slave  then  !" 

"Ob  co'se;  an'  ef  it  hed  been  known,  I  reckon  I'd  been  wuss  off 
'n  what  they  tell  about  Morgin." 

"But  how  did  it  happen?" 

"  Wai,  sah,"  replied  Joe,  seating  himself  upon  the  pile  of  wood 
prepared  for  the  night's  consumption,  "  you  know  my  ole  Marster  were 
a  gret  man  in  these  parts.  I  wuz  his  head-man,  an'  they  do  say  I 
hed  ez  good  right  ez  some  others  ter  claim  kin  with  him.  But  dat's 
nuther  here  ner  thar.  He  wuz  allers  good  enuff  ter  me,  an'  mighty 
few  white  folks  hed  so  many  privileges  er  got  'long  ez  easy  ez  Joe. 
I  jest  nater'ly  tuk  ter  management,  an'  nothin'  suited  me  better'n  ter 
run  a  big  plantation  an'  turn  off  a  big  crap.  From  de  time  he  fus'  gin 
me  a  chance,  I  made  money  fer  ole  Marster,  an'  every  Chris'mus  he 
useter  give  me  a  present  an'  tell  me  he  was  sure  gwine  ter  set  me  free 
ez  SOOQ  ez  he  got  outer  debt,  so't  the  law  couldn't  take  hoi'  on  him 
fer  doin'  it.  'Twuz  'gin  the  law  then,  yer  know,  fer  a  man  ter  set  a 
niggah  free  ez  long  as  he  owed  ennybody.  But,  do  the  best  I  would, 
we  couldn't  keep  up  with  the  int'rust,  an'  young  Marse  Torm — thar 
never  was  the  beat  o'  dat  boy  fer  spendin'  money — tuk  it  from  his 
father,  ye  see,  the  ole  kunnel,  who  never  thought  'bout  savin',  till  he 
hedn't  nothin'  more  ter  spend,  an'  hit  didn't  seem  ez  ef  I  were  ever 
gwine  ter  git  free;  but  I  'lowed  dat  ef  I  kep'  on  layin'  by  a  leetle 
every  year  I  mought  git  'nuff  hid  away,  yer  know,  ter  git  somebody  ter 
buy  me  an'  my  wife  when  the  kunnel  wuz  sold  out,  ez  hit  seemed  a 
sartin  thing  he  would  be,  when  the  mo'gage  fell  in, — fer  we  wuz  all 
mo'gaged,  yer  know,  plantation,  stock,  niggers,  'n'  all. 

"  Hit  were  'long  'bout  dis  time,  when  young  Marse  Torm  were 
makin'  ducks  an'  drakes  outen  every  crap  'fore  it  was  cured,  an'  the 
int'rust  were  gittin'  furder  an'  furder  behin',  'at  de  'citement  come  up 
'bout  Californy,  an'  the  gold  there  wuz  to  be  hed  dar  jes'  fer  the 
diggin'  on't.  Ob  co'se  my  ole  Marster  were  jes'  in  de  condition  ter  be 
all  tuk  up  wid  sech  things.  A  man  that's  close  on  ter  drownin's  sure 
ter  grab  at  all  de  straws  an'  trash  that  floats  ennywhars  nigh  him. 
'Sides,  that  wuz  allus  his  way, — allus  a-strainin'  fer  somethin'  he 
couldn't  reach,  an'  let-tin'  go  what  he  might  hev  held  on  ter. 

"  One  day  he  sez  ter  me,  '  Joe,  ef  I  could  go  ter  Californy  I  could 
get  holt  of  enuff  in  six  months  ter  wipe  out  every  dollar  I  owe.' 


"MISSIONABY  JOE."  203 

" ( Quite  likely  yer  might,  marster/  sez  I,  not  a-thinkin'  so  at  all, 
yer  know,  but  jes'  'lowin  ter  humor  his  whim. 

" i Ob  co'se  I  could/  sez  he.  '  Don't  yer  know  how  lucky  I  allus 
wuz  at  keerds,  when  I  useter  play?'  Which  wuz  true  enuff:  .he 
warn't  like  Marse  Torm,  who,  he  useter  say,  would  beat  hisself  outen 
a  hundred  dollars  enny  day  bettin'  ag'iu'  hisself  at  solitaire. 

"  '  You  wuz  allus  lucky  too,  Joe/  sez  he,  *  when  you  an'  Torm 
useter  play  ag'in'  each  other;  yer  allus  won  every  thin'  he  hed.' 

"  That  wuz  true  too,"  said  the  old  man,  modestly,  "  but  Marster  he 
put  a  stop  ter  thet  soon's  he  foun'  hit  out.  A'ter  this  he  didn't  say  no 
mo'  fer  a  long  time,  an'  I  'lowed  he'd  done  fergot  all  'bo'dt  it.  Seems 
he  hadn't,  though,  an'  one  day  he  sed, — 

" '  Joe,  why  couldn't  you  go  out  thar  ter  Californy  an'  git  money 
'nuff  fer  both  on  us  ?' 

" '  Shore  'nuif/  sez  I,  all  of  a  tremble  at  the  very  idee.  I  'spects  he 
see  what  wuz  in  my  min'.  He  were  a  powerful  sharp  man  in  that  er 
way,  ole  Marster  was,  an'  he  knew  how  sot  I  was  on  gittin'  my  freedom. 
I  wuz  a-thinkin'  right  then  thet  ef  I  ever  got  up  Norf  I  could  run 
away  an'  be  my  own  man. 

" '  Yer  won't  do  thet,  Joe/  says  ole  Marster,  jes'  so,  '  fer  I  shan't 
let  yer  go  till  you've  sworn  an  oath  ter  come  back,  an'  I  shell  keep 
Elsie  an'  the  chillen  ter  make  yer  keep  yer  promise,  too.' 

"  A'ter  that  we  talked  about  hit  times  widout  number.  I  reckon 
hit  must  hev  been  nigh  'bout  a  month  that  ole  Marster  wuz  with  me 
'mos'  everywhere  I  went,  a-talkin'  all  de  time,  when  thar  wuz  nobody 
else  roun',  'bout  my  goin'  ter  Californy  ter  dig  gold  an'  pay  off  the 
mo'gage  an'  git  my  freedom. 

"  Wai,  the  end  on  it  all  wuz  thet  I  'greed  ter  go  an'  wuk  faithful 
fer  two  year,  an'  bring  back  what  I  made  ter  be  divided  'twixt  us, 
sheer  an'  sheer  alike;  an'  I  wuz  ter  hev  my  freedom  besides.  The 
thing  ter  be  done  wuz  ter  fix  hit  so  thet  his  creditors  couldn't  foller  me 
an'  bring  me  back.  We  wuz  all  mo'gaged,  yer  see,  an'  hit  wouldn't 
do  ter  sen'  a  likely  nigger  like  me  outen  the  State  with  a  mo'gage  on 
his  back.  A'ter  studyin'  hit  all  out,  ole  Marster  'lowed  de  bes'  way 
would  be  fer  him  ter  sell  me  an'  Elsie  an'  little  Torm  ter  Marse 
Hamlin,  who  hed  the  mo'gage,  hev  him  credit  it  on  the  mo'gage,  an' 
then  pay  him  ter  quit-claim  us  back  ter  Mis'  Susan, — she  were  my  ole 
Mistis,  yer  know,  an'  I  reckon  'bout  the  mos'  piousest  woman  in  the 


204  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

kentry.  I  b'lieved  in  religion  then,  an'  hedn't  any  doubt  but  every- 
thin'  would  be  all  right  an  fa'r,  jes'  as  she  promised." 

"  I  hope  you  haven't  lost  your  belief  in  religion  since  ?"  I  hastened 
to  say,  rebukingly. 

"  I  don7  know,"  said  the  old  man,  sententiously.  "  I  b'lieve  in  a 
God, — I  couldn't  be  even  a  '  clan  cfestin'  Mason  ef  I  didn't,  yer  know, 
— an'  I  guess  I  b'lieve  in  a  devil,  too.  Ef  enny  nigger  pretends  ter 
b'lieve  in  anythin'  more,  he's  a  hypocrite  an'  a  liar.  'Tain't  possible 
fer  a  sensible  man  thet's  been  a  slave  ter  b'lieve  in  what  white  folks 
call  religion.  That's  my  notion." 

He  spoke  bitterly,  but  somehow  I  did  not  think  it  wise  to  contradict 
him  :  so  I  merely  said, — 

"  There  seem  to  be  a  good  many  colored  Christians,  nevertheless." 

"That's  what  puzzles  me,"  said  Joe.  "I  can't  understand  hit. 
Ef  there  ever  were  a  miracle  on  earth,  it  is  that  the  nigger — the  man 
•who's  been  a  slave,  and  much  more  the  slave- worn  an — should  be  will  in' 
to  worship  a  white  man's  God.  I'd  ruther — but  never  rnin'  dat,  Mistuh 
Fontaine.  Ole  Marster  an'  Mistis  an'  me  all  swore  with  our  han's  on 
the  Bible  I  They  swore  Elsie,  too,  and  scart  her  nigh  'bout  to  death. 
Pore  gal  I  pore  gal !  she'd  'a'  been  alive  to-day  ef  they'd  kep'  their 
oaths  I 

"  A'ter  it  were  all  settled,  Marster  tuk  me  aside  one  day  in  de  big 
room  up-stairs  whar  dey  hel'  de  lodge  sometimes,  an'  tole  me,  what 
I  knew  before,  dat  he  were  the  Gran'  Marster  o'  Masons  for  the  State. 
An'  he  tole  me  dat  because  he  war  Gran'  Marster  he  hed  the  right 
ter  make  any  man  a  Mason  '  at  sight,'  an'  he  was  goiu'  ter  make  me 
one.  He  said  it  would  be  all  his  life  was  wuth  ef  hit  war  known,  but 
he  was  goin'  to  do  it,  'kase  it  would  be  a  great  advantage  to  me  out 
in  Californy.  An'  sure  'nough  hit  was.  He  give  me  a  paper  when  I 
started,  certifyin'  that  I  was  a  free  man,  an'  signed  it  with  a  Masonic 
mark,  namin'  himself  as  Gran'  Marster. 

"  He  told  me  never  to  let  on  that  I  was  a  Mason  till  I  got  up 
Norf,  and  then  to  say  I  was  '  made'  in  the  West  Injes.  He  said  the 
Northern  Masons  probably  would  not  recognize  me,  but  they  would 
likely  help  me  if  I  needed  help.  So  they  did,  an'  when  they  organized 
a  lodge  out  in  the  '  diggins'  they  not  only  'lowed  me  to  sit  with  'em, 
but  made  me  ther  tiler." 

" Did  you  have  good  luck  out  there?"  I  asked. 

"  Plenty  on't.     Afore  I  had  been  thar  more'n  a  month,  I  took  two 


"MISSIONARY  JOE."  205 

thousand  dollars  of  '  dust7  to  the  commandant  of  the  military  post,  an' 
hed  hit  sent  back  to  ole  Marster.  I  knew  he'd  need  hit  'bout  the  time 
it  would  git  roun'  to  pay  the  int'rust  on  the  mo'gage.  A'ter  that  I 
mined  some,  an'  finally  opened  a  resta'rant.  Yer  see,  I  knew  how  to 
do  good  South'n  cookin',  an'  could  serve  a  dinner  so't  a  hungry  man 
wouldn't  lose  his  appetite  at  sight  on't.  That's  what  they  wanted  out 
tliar,  an'  they  war  willin'  ter  pay  for  it,  too.  Lo'd,  what  prices  they  did 
pay  !  Every  now  an'  then,  too,  I  took  a  share  in  with  somebody,  an' 
got  a  name  fer  bein'  lucky :  so  I  hedn't  any  difficulty  in  gittin'  pard- 
ners.  I  didn't  make  ez  much  ez  some,  but  when  I  come  roun'  the 
Isthmus  an'  hed  paid  my  way  up  by  New  Orleans  an'  got  home,  I  had 
a  leetle  better'n  twenty  thousan'  dollars." 

"  And  you  gave  all  this  to  your  master  ?" 

"  No,  not  ezactly.  Ob  co'se  I  was  so  glad  ter  git  home  an'  see 
Elsie  an'  the  chillen  an'  think  I  was  free,  an'  they  too,  thet  I  acted 
like  a  fool.  I  know  that  now.  I  ought  ter  hev  gone  on  ter  New 
Yo'k,  put  the  money  in  good  han's,  an'  sent  fer  Marster  ter  bring  on 
my  wife  an'  chillen  an'  settle  wid  me  thar.  He'd  'a'  done  hit  in  a 
minnit.  He  warn't  mean,  ole  Marster  warn't, — only  weak  an'  shackly 
like. 

"Hit  warn't  so  easy  totin'  money  roun'  then  as  hit  is  now,  an' 
I've  offen  wondered  how  I  did  manage  ter  git  through  wid  dat  ole 
pa'r  o'  raw-hide  saddle-bags  wid  de  deer-skin  cover  that  I  brought 
all  the  way  from  Frisco.  When  I  begun  to  git  close  home  an'  th'  ole 
i  nigger'  feelin'  begun  to  creep  over  me,  I  couldn't  help  bein'  afraid  ole 
Marster  mightn't  tote  fa'r  wid  me;  so  I  lef  de  stage — I  hed  been 
ridin'  wid  de  driver — befo5  we  got  ter  town,  an'  went  up  de  creek  to  a 
deep  hole  I  -knew,  an'  tuk  half  uv  de  money  out  an'  sunk  hit  whar 
de  watah  wuz  'bout  waist-deep.  I  knew  de  creek  never  went  dry,  an' 
the'  wuzn't  any  danger  uv  hits  washin'  away  er  uv  me  forgettin'  where 
hit  wuz. 

"  When  I  got  into  town,  I  found  ole  Marster  here  in  dis  same  room. 
He  hed  been  'rested  on  a  sci.  fa.,  an'  he  wuz  a-tryin'  ter  git  security 
ter  prevent  his  bein'  tuk  ter  jail.  Hit  were  hard  wuk,  fer  he'd  run 
through  nigh  'bout  everythin'.  You  may  guess  he  were  mighty  glad 
ter  see  me.  The  money  I  brought  paid  off  his  mos'  pressin'  debts,  but 
hit  wuzn't  long  before  I  foun'  thar  wuz  another  mo'gage.  Mis'  Susan 
she  lied  j'ined  in  that,  an'  all  her  niggers  as  well  as  ole  Marster's  wuz 
boun'  by  hit :  me  an'  Elsie  an'  the  chillen  'mong  de  res',  so  the  lawyers 
18 


206  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

sed.  The  only  way  outen  hit  were  to  pay  off  thet  mo'gage  too.  But 
I  wuzn't  sure  I'd  git  my  freedom  even  then,  an'  I  made  up  my  min'  I 
wouldn't  be  swindled  out  o'  the  rest  o'  my  money.  Ole  Marster  wuz 
good  'nuff  ter  me,  but  Mis'  Susan  seemed  ter  take  a  spite  at  me,  an' 
Marse  Torm  'lowed  he'd  beat  me  ter  death  ef  I  didn't  tell  whar  that 
money  wuz.  He  hed  me  tied  up  ter  do  it,  too,  one  day,  an*  were  'bout 
ter  begin,  when  ole  Marster  came  out,  an'  I  give  him,  as  well  as  I 
could  fer  my  arms  bein'  tied,  the  hailin'-sign  uv  a  Marster  Mason.  He 
tu'ued  ez  pale  ez  a  sheet,  an'  rushed  in  'twixt  me  an'  de  overseer  an' 
bid  'em  tu'n  me  loose.  Nobody  ever  argued  with  my  ole  Marster  when 
he  spoke  like  dat.  Th'  overseer  was  a  Mason  too,  an'  so  was  Marse 
Torm,  but  they  didn't  notice  what  I  done.  They  warn't  lookin'  fer 
hit,  ye  see.  A'ter  that  ole  Marster  tu'ned  off  the  overseer,  an'  put  me 
an'  Elsie  in  his  house,  an'  'lowed  ef  anybody  meddled  wid  us  dey'd  hev 
to  'count  ter  him  fer  hit. 

"  You  wonder  I  didn't  run  away  ?  Hit  do  seem  strange ;  but,  ef 
you  look  at  hit  once,  'twarn't  an  easy  thing  ter  do.  Ye  see,  all  de  roads 
wuz  patrolled,  an'  a  nigger  hed  ter  hev  his  pass  wid  him  ter  go  'long 
de  highway  er  git  'board  a  train.  The  chances  were  ag'in'  my  gittin' 
through  ef  I  tried.  I  knew  dat,  an'  I  hed  a  pull  on  ole  Marster  I 
hoped  ter  be  able  ter  wuk.  He  was  mortually  'feared  I'd  let  hit  be 
known  he'd  made  me  a  Mason.  I  reckon  he  wouldn't  hev  lived  long 
ef  hit  hed  come  out  thet  he'd  done  hit  fa'r  an'  squar'  fer  his  own  benefit. 
I  was  well  lectured,  though, — ther'  ain't  no  doubt  but  Marster  were  a 
bright  Mason, — an'  I  could  hev  proved  up  'fore  enriybody  thet  sot  out 
ter  examine  me.  The  only  trouble  wuz,  I  war  jes'  ez  'feared  ez  he. 
Years  a'terward  the  Gran'  Marster  made  a  respectable  white  man  a 
Mason  in  the  same  way,  an'  hit  made  a  great  row.  Ole  Marster  sed  hit 
hed  been  a  hundred  years,  ur  sech  a  matter,  sence  hit  hed  been  done 
befo'.  Ef  I  hed  been  free  an'  white  I  reckon  he'd  been  will  in'  to  face 
hit;  but,  bein'  a  slave,  he  knew  he  would  be  forever  disgraced  ef  hit 
ever  got  out.  So  he  kep'  beggin'  me  not  ter  tell  on  him,  an'  swearin' 
thet  ez  soon  ez  he  got  outen  under  his  load  o'  debt  he'd  set  us  all  free. 
At  las'  he  giv'  me  a  paper-writin',  signed,  sealed,  an'  witnessed, — an' 
I've  got  it  yet, — thet  ef  I'd  raise  the  money  ter  lift  de  second  mo'gage 
he'd  set  us  all  free  an'  hev  the  mo'gage  signed  over  ter  me  fer  security 
fer  my  debt. 

"A'ter  a  heap  o'  persuadin',  I  consented;  an',  shore  'nuff,  ole 
Marster  give  us  all  free  papers  an'  had  'em  registered  at  the  co't-house, 


"MISSIONARY  JOE."  207 

all  proper.  I  reckon  he'd  done  forgot  'bout  our  beiV  sold  ter  Marse 
Hamlin,  spechily  as  hit  were  kind  uv  a  secret,  an7  Mis'  Susan  herself 
didn't  know  nothin'  'bout  hit  till  a'ter  hit  were  done. 

"  I  'lowed  ter  git  right  away  a'ter  that,  but  ole  Marster  importuned 
me  ter  stay  an'  manage  fer  him  a  few  years  ennyhow,  an'  so  I  did. 
Hit  were  mighty  foolish,  but  what  could  you  expec'?  Ef  a  nigger  ain't 
ez  good  ez  a  white  man,  you  can't  spect  him  ter  do  enny  better.  I 
liked  ter  oversee, — ther'  ain't  no  doubt  uv  that.  I  lied  my  own  way, 
an'  liked  ter  show  thet  I  could  make  money  where  a  white  man  hed 
failed.  Things  went  on  this  way  till  ole  Marster  died.  He  lef  every- 
thin'  ter  Mis'  Susan,  with  a  '  power  uv  app'intment,'  as  the  lawyers 
call  hit,  on  condition  thet  she'd  keep  me  ez  long  ez  I  would  stay,  an' 
do  the  right  thing  by  us  when  she  died. 

"  Two  years  a'ter  thet  ole  Mistis  died,  an'  then  I  foun'  out  I  wuzn't 
free  at  all  an'  never  hed  been.  All  de  res'  uv  de  prop'ity  wuz  lef  ter 
Marse  Torm,  but  we  wuz  lef  ter  the  trustees  of  the  '  chu'ch,  ter  be 
used  ez  the  trustees  see  fit,  fer  the  glory  o'  God  an'  the  spread  of  his 
holy  word.'  That's  what  the  will  said  which  Mis'  Susan  made  accordin* 
to  her  '  power  uv  app'intment.'  I  spect  she  meant  us  ter  be  free,  but 
the  law  hed  been  changed  a'ter  the  will  was  writ  an'  befo'  it  came  ter 
be  read  out,  so  that  hit  wuzn't  lawful  enny  mo'  ter  leave  slaves  '  ter  be 
used  fer  the  glory  of  God,' — so  the  lawyers  sed  ;  and  they  sed,  too,  that 
the  only  way  ter  keep  us  from  fallin'  into  Marse  Term's  hands  wuz  ter 
put  us  up  an'  sell  us  bony  fidyfer  the  benefit  of  de  chu'ch.  An'  thet's 
jes'  what  they  done.  Ole  Marse  Uamlin,  who  wuzn't  enny  sort  of  a 
chu'ch  man, — he  sed  it  were  a  damn  shame  ter  put  up  a  nigger  thet 
hed  paid  fer  hisself  twice  over  an'  sell  him  fer  the  benefit  of  the 
chu'ch  ;  so  he  bid  twelve  hundred  dollars  for  the  lot,  an'  tole  me 
thet  I  might  hire  myself  out,  an'  ez  soon  ez  I  handed  him  back  the 
money,  widout  int'rust,  ef  hit  wuzn't  fer  twenty  years,  he'd  give  me  a 
pass  ter  go  where  the'  wuzn't  enny  sech  Christians  ez  I'd  been  a-dealin' 
wid.  He  sed  he  warn't  quite  ez  high-toned  ez  ole  Marster,  an'  hadn't 
eber  been  a  Gran'  Marster,  but  he  could  keep  his  word  even  wid  a 
nigger. 

"  The  matter  made  a  good  deal  o'  talk,  an'  folks  said  hard  things 
'bout  ole  Marster  and  ole  Mistis  too.  Ob  co'se  I  felt  powerful  bad 
den.  I  hadn't  only  toted  fa'r  wid  ole  Marster,  an'  holped  him  outen 
his  trouble,  but  he  wouldn't  never  hev  lef  the  estate  he  did  ef  I 
hadn't  persuaded  him  ter  give  the  railroad  thet  piece  o'  Ian'  whar  th' 


208  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

'  Shops '  be.  They  hadn't  more'n  got  de  track  down  'fore  all  de  res' 
ob  his  lau'  nigh  'bout  doubled  in  value,  an'  afore  Mis'  Susan  died  de 
fambly  wuz  richer'n  hit  ever  hed  been.  I  hain't  a  doubt  she  meant  ter 
do  right  by  us.  She  didn't  b'lieve  in  freein'  niggers  an'  sendin'  'em 
away.  She  thought  God  hed  brought  'em  into  this  country  so't  they 
mought  be  saved.  I  hain't  nothin'  ter  say  ag'in'  Mis'  Susan, — ther'  ain't 
no  better  woman  ever  lived  hereabouts, — but  I  do  think  bein' "put  up 
an'  sold  f  fer  the  glory  of  God  an'  the  spread  of  his  word'  was  what 
killed  my  Elsie.  She  warn't  ever  very  strong,  an'  she  was  that  'feared 
she'd  fall  inter  bad  han's  thet  she  waru't  sca'cely  able  ter  stan'  up  at 
the  sale,  an'  a'ter  that  she  jes'  run  down  till  ther'  warn't  nothin'  lef. 
The  worl'  hain't  ever  been  de  same  sence  she  lef  it, — not  ter  me,  thet 
is, — an'  I  hain't  never  took  no  stock  in  religion  sence." 

The  old  man  was  silent.  The  wind  moaned  without,  and  the  frozen 
branches  creaked  above  us.  After  a  while  I  asked, — 

"  You  married  again  ?" 

"  A'ter  de  wah,  sah, — yes.  An'  I  hain't  ary  word  to  say  ag'in' 
Axylone ;  she  ce'tin  are  a  good  wife ;  but,  a'ter  all,  a  second  wife  ain't 
noways  like  de  wife  one  hes  in  his  young  days,  when  dey  live  on  hope 
ez  well  ez  what  dey  hev  in  han'.  Yer  see,  I  allus  hoped  ter  make  her 
free, — that  was  what  I'd  set  my  min'  on, — an'  I  didnj  do  kit !  It  were 
all  my  fault.  Ef  I  hedn't  been  a  fool,  Elsie  would  hev  been  alive 
ter-day,  or  at  least  would  hev  died  free." 

To  rouse  the  old  man  from  his  sad  retrospect,  I  asked, — 

"  Where  did  you  get  the  name  l  Missionary  Joe'  ?" 

"  Oh,  dat's  jes'  a  nickname.  Yer  see,  a'ter  Marse  Hamlin  paid 
more'n  a  thousan'  dollars  fer  me  an'  my  fambly,  the  chu'ch  didn't  know 
what  ter  do  wid  de  money.  Some  on  'em  wanted  ter  han'  hit  over  ter 
me  ter  pay  ter  Marse  Hamlin,  but  they  all  wuz  afraid  'twould  invali 
date  the  sale  an'  Marse  Torm  would  git  holt  on  us  spite  ob  ev'ythin'. 
They  hadn't  no  use  fer  hit,  though,  an'  a'ter  a  while  it  was  voted  to 
take  hit  an'  sen'  a  missionary  to  furrin  lan's.  An'  so  dey  did ;  an' 
when  hit  were  reported  about  at  the  nex'  co't,  Marse  Jeems  Alexander 
he  tuk  ter  callin'  me  '  Missionary  Joe,'  an'  hit's  stuck  ter  me  eber 
sence.  I  reckon,"  the  old  man  added,  shyly,  "  I'm  'bout  de  only  man 
thet  hain't  got  enny  too  much  religion  hisself  thet  ever  owned  a  whole 
missionary  all  to  hisself.  I  hope  he's  done  somebody  some  good,"  he 
added,  with  a  quiet  chuckle. 

The  wind  moaned,  and  the  sheeted  branches  of  the  old  oak  snapped 


"MISSIONARY  JOE."  209 

and  crackled  without,  as  the  old  man  concluded  his  story.  The  fire 
light  threw  its  comforting  glow  over  the  room.  Old  Joe  sat  upon  the 
wood,  gazing  quietly  into  the  light-wood  blaze  that  swept  up  the  chim 
ney.  I  had  smoked  out  my  cigar,  lighted  another,  and  emptied  the 
glass  of  "  peach  and  honey,"  during  the  recital.  Somehow  I  had  never 
understood  before  the  essential  injustice  of  a  system  which  but  a  few 
years  ago  represented  the  religious  ideal  of  a  whole  people.  I  had 
never  realized  how  entirely  slavery  was  bottomed  on  one  fact, — power. 
I  had  never  understood  that  service,  intelligence,  merit  of  any  sort,  did 
not  affect  the  fact  of  proprietorship  and  its  incidents.  I  wondered,  as 
I  looked  at  the  old  man,  how  he  could  speak  so  calmly  of  what  seemed 
to  me  unpardonable  wrongs.  • 

"  It  seems  to  me,  uncle,"  I  said,  after  a  while,  "  that  yours  is  about 
the  hardest  case  I  ever  heard  of." 

"  Wai,  sah,"  answered  the  old  man,  still  gazing  into  the  firelight, 
"  that  depends.  I  useter  think  so ;  but  I've  come  ter  see  thet  my  case 
warn't  any  harder'n  the  rest.  That's  what  Elsie  allus  said, — till  we 
wuz  sold, — she  never  hed  no  sperrit  a'ter  dat, — but  she  wuz  allus 
a-sayin',  'fore  dat,  thet  hit  warn't  enny  wuss  ter  lose  what  we  hed,  then 
never  hev  nothin'  ter  lose." 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,"  I  said. 

"  Wai,  thet  ain't  ezactly  the  way  on't.  What  she  meant  wuz  thet 
it  warn't  enny  wuss  ter  take  away  from  me  what  I  hed,  than  from 
another  the  chance  ter  make  sunthin'  fer  hisself.  That's  where  the 
wrong  wuz.  It  warn't  ole  Marster's  wrong,  ner  old  Mistis's.  One 
meant  ter  do  right,  an'  t'other  thought  she  hed  done  right.  It  wuz 
the  whole  thing  thet  wuz  wrong, — from  beginning  ter  end.  That's 
why  I  can't  understan'  how  enny  nigger  can  be  a  Christian.  That's 
what  I  useter  tell  Elsie." 

"  What  did  she  say  to  that?" 

"'Oh,  you  will,  Joe,  you  will.'  She  wouldn't  eber  give  up. 
'  You'll  forgive  'em  all,  Joe,  jes'  as  I  do/  she'd  say.  But  I  hain't  eber 
done  it,  an'  I  can't  eber  do  hit,  sah.  Ef  I  hed  my  way,  I'd  take  from 
'em  now  every  cent  they  eber  made  offen  the  colored  man's  wuk, — 
every  cent,  sah, — an'  then  what  would  be  lef?  And  I  shan't  eber 
b'lieve  what  they  say  'bout  the  Lord  till  hit's  done,  sah, — neber  ! 
Jestice  is  jestice !  Ther'  ain't  enny  other  name  fer  hit,  an',  so  fer  ez 
I've  eber  heerd,  nothin'  ter  take  the  place  on't." 
18* 


210  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

"  If  you  owned  your  old  master's  plantation,  would  you  turn  off  all 
those  who  are  on  it  ?" 

"  Ole  Mistis's  folks  ?  I  don'  know  ez  I  would,  sah.  Hit  wouldn't 
do  me  enny  good." 

"  But  it  would  be  justice,  you  know." 

"  Wai,  no,  sah :  two  wrongs  don't  make  one  right.  Elsie's  dead 
an'  gone  now,"  said  the  old  man,  thoughtfully.  "  I  hain't  got  no  mo' 
ambition." 

"  But  it  was  your  money, — not  Elsie's." 

"Don'  try  ter  bother  me,  sah.  Hit  were  ole  Marster's  money 
'cordin'  ter  de  law.  I  b'longed  ter  him,  an'  all  I  got  b'longed  ter  him 
too.  Ther's  only  this  difference,  sah.  I  wouldn't  neber  hev  got  that 
money  ef  he  hadn't  promised  me  half 'n  hit  an'  my  freedom ;  an'  I 
wouldn't  hev  done  hit  then  ef  hit  hadn't  been  fer  the  sake  o'  seein' 
Elsie  free." 

"  When  did  you  leave  California,  Joe  ?" 

"  In  'fifty-two,  sah." 

"  And  you  had  been  there — how  long  ?" 

"  Two  year  an'  betteh,  sah." 

"  With  your  master's  consent  ?" 

"  Ob  co'se,  sah  :  I's  got  the  paper  he  gimme  'fore  I  went  away." 

"  I  think  you  said  you  had  the  mortgage  Hamlin  assigned  to  you, 
too?" 

"  Sartin,  sah  :  got  'em  all  here." 

He  took  out  an  old  pocket-book  as  he  spoke,  and  handed  me  a 
bundle  of  papers. 

"  Marse  Torni  tried  ag'in  an'  ag'in  ter  git  hoi'  o'  dese  yere,  but  I 
kep'  'em  hid  away  so  he  neber  lay  han's  on  'em." 

I  was  running  through  the  papers  with  professional  interest  by  this 
time. 

"  Marse  Tom  is  dead,  I  think  you  said  ?" 

"  Died  in  de  wah,  sah.  He  ce't'nly  were  brave,  ef  there  warn't 
nothin'  else  good  'bout  him." 

"  The  deed  to  the  railroad  company  was  made  after  the  assignment 
of  the  mortgage  to  you  ?" 

"  Sartin,  sah." 

"  Did  you  ever  assent  to  a  cancellation  or  entry  of  satisfaction  of 
this  mortgage?" 

"  No,  sah.     Nobody  eber  axed  me  to.     'Twuz  all  a  make-b'lieve, 


"MISSIONARY  JOE."  211 

you  see ;  thet's  what  the  lawyers  tole  me.  I  wuz  a  slave,  an'  couldn't 
1  take/  they  said.  I  spec'  old  Marster  done  forgot  I'd  been  quit-claimed." 

"Did  your  old  mistress  consentHo  your  stay  in  California?" 

"  Done  wrote  me  a  letter  herse'f  a'ter  I  sent  the  money :  it's  dar, 
too." 

"  What'll  you  take  for  that  mortgage,  Joe?" 

"  'Clar',  I  don'  know,  sah.     What's  hit  wuth  ?" 

"  I  wouldn't  like  to  say,  Joe,  but  I  think  it  might  be  made  worth  the 
full  amount.  In  other  words,  I  think  you  were  a  free  man  when  it 
was  made,  and,  if  the  statute  of  limitations  has  not  barred  it,  the  whole 
estate  is  liable  for  the  amount,  with  interest." 

"  Yeh  don't  say  so  ?"  exclaimed  the  old  man,  springing  to  his  feet. 
"  Why,  that  would  break  up  all  of  old  Mistis's  folks, — every  one  on 
'em !" 

"Very  likely." 

"  I  wouldn't  want  ter  do  dat,  sah." 

"  You  were  talking  about  justice  a  little  while  ago,"  I  said,  with  a 
smile. 

"  Dat's  all  done  an'  gone  by.  I  don'  want  ter  do  nobody  no  harm. 
I  couldn't  turn  'em  out,  nohow.  'Twouldn't  be  right :  would  it,  now  ?" 

"  I  can't  advise  you,  Joe.  I'll  give  you  a  thousand  dollars  for  the 
mortgage  and  take  the  risk." 

"  What  you  want  of  hit  ?"  he  asked,  with  quick  suspicion,  reaching 
out  his  hand  for  the  paper. 

"  It  will  strengthen  our  case  against  the  railroad." 

"  An'  you  won't  pester  old  Mistis's  folks  ?" 

"  Not  one  of  them.  Indeed,  I  should  insist  upon  your  giving  them 
a  quit-claim  to  settle  the  title." 

"  You  think  I  wuz  free,  then,  an'  no  mistake  ?" 

"  Y^es.  By  sending  you  into  a  free  State  your  master  lost  his  right. 
You  remained  there  long  enough  to  become  a  citizen,  and  ignorance  of 
your  rights  did  not  work  a  forfeiture." 

"An' Elsie?" 

"  She  was  free  when  you  paid  Hamlin,  or  rather  she  belonged  to 
you." 

"Den  she  wuz  free,  shore  ?nuff!"  Tears  ran  down  the  old  man's 
face. 

"  Mister  Fontaine,"  he  said,  after  a  while,  "  ef  you  keep  in  de  same 


212  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 


in'  to-morrer,  an'  hit  ain't  gwine  ter  hu't  ole  Mistis's  folks,  I  reckon 
Til  take  that  offer  o'  yourn." 

"All  right.  We'll  see  Colonel  Bagster  on  Monday  and  talk  t  it 
over." 

"Dat's  all  right." 

He  rose  hastily,  put  more  wood  on  the  fire,  brushed  up  the  hearth, 
took  his  hat  from  the  floor,  and  said  good-night. 

The  matter  was  concluded  during  the  next  week.  My  associate 
fully  approved  what  had  been  done,  and  when  the  railroad  company  saw 
how  we  had  strengthened  our  case  it  was  easy  to  make  a  compromise 
with  them.  The  heirs  of  Holt  were  greatly  alarmed  at  the  turn  things 
had  taken  ;  but  when  deeds  of  release  had  been  executed  to  each,  they 
were  loud  in  their  praise  of  "  Missionary  Joe,"  whom  they  jocularly 
declared  to  have  been  rightly  named,  after  all. 

Before  the  deeds  were  delivered,  I  asked  the  old  man  if  he  was  sure 
he  wished  to  release  them  all. 

"  Ob  co'se,  sah.     Dey  never  done  me  no  harm." 

"  But  I  thought  you  said  you  did  not  believe  in  religion,  Joe  ?" 

"  Wai,  sah,  what's  dat  ter  do  wid  it?" 

"  Nothing  ;  only  your  words  and  acts  don't  seem  to  match  very 
well." 

"  You  thinks  so,  sah  ?  Wai,  I  hope  it's  so  :  hit  shorely  would  do 
Elsie  good  ter  know  I  misspoke  myself  in  dat." 


XL 

A  LEGAL  IMPRESSIONIST. 

FOUNTAIN,  have  you  heard  from  Mrs.  Murray  lately?" 
It  was  Mr.  Swallow  who  asked  the  question.  He  was  walking 
up  and  down  the  room,  his  face  flushed,  a  lock  of  his  steel-gray  hair 
hanging  over  his  forehead,  and  his  hands  clasped  behind  his  back  as 
was  his  custom  when  in  deep  thought.  He  was  by  no  means  of  even 
temper,  but  I  thought  I  had  never  before  seen  him  laboring  under  such 
excitement.  Mr.  Gauge  sat  near  his  partner's  desk,  his  brows  drawn 
together,  biting  his  lips  and  showing  unmistakable  signs  of  irritability. 
The  inquiry  surprised  me  so  that  I  nearly  fell  back  against  the  door  I 
had  just  closed  behind  me  on  entering  the  room. 

"  Of  course  he  hasn't,  Swallow/7  said  Mr.  Gauge,  impatiently, 
before  I  had  an  opportunity  to  open  my  lips. 

I  suppose  the  truth  showed  itself  in  my  countenance,  for,  after 
flashing  one  glance  at  me,  Mr.  Swallow  turned  dejectedly  away,  saying, 
in  a  disappointed  tone, — 

"  Evidently  not." 

"  Did  you  suppose  I  had  ?"  I  asked,  with  some  resentful  ness.  AVhy 
I  should  feel  that  the  question  was  an  imputation  upon  me  I  cannot  tell. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  care  anything  about  her  affairs,"  said  Mr.  Swallow, 
in  a  tone  of  amused  contempt :  "  I  only  want  to  know  where  Hazzard 
is,  and  thought  if  you  could  locate  your  client  ours  would  not  be  very 
far  away." 

He  halted  with  his  back  towards  us,  looking  out  of  the  window, 
and  gave  one  of  his  peculiarly  irritating  chuckles  as  he  spoke,  which 
for  about  the  first  time  in  our  intercourse  provoked  me  beyond  restraint. 

"  I  am  glad  to  say,"  I  answered,  hotly,  "  I  know  nothing  about 
the  man  for  whom  you  feel  such  anxiety,  and  do  not  care  to  hear  of 
him." 

"Don't  be  a  fool,  Fountain!"  burst  out  Mr.  Swallow,  turning 

213 


214  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

sharply  upon  me.  "  Mr.  Hazzard  is  our  client :  not  only  that,  he  is 
the  best  client  Gauge  &  Swallow  ever  had,  and  it  does  not  become  any 
one  in  our  employ  to  speak  of  him  in  that  tone.  He  is  not  a  saint, 
but  it  is  something  to  his  credit  that  he  is  not  a  devil,  either.  You  and 
your  client  have  good  reason  to  know  that,  and  ought  at  least  to  feel 
grateful  for  it." 

I  was  so  astounded  at  his  words  that  I  knew  not  what  to  say.  I 
had  never  known  him  to  manifest  such  extreme  sensitiveness  in  regard 
to  a  client  before,  and  was  at  a  loss  to  understand  his  meaning.  I  had 
nothing  to  hope  or  fear  from- Mr.  Hazzard :  betwixt  him  and  me  there 
could  never  be  any  pleasant  or  profitable  relation.  I  owed  him  neither 
gratitude  nor  good  will,  and  saw  no  reason  why  I  should  not  speak  of 
him  just  as  I  felt.  I  was  sorry,  however,  that  I  had  seriously  offended 
Mr.  Swallow.  Not  only  had  I  an  unbounded  admiration  for  him,  but 
I  had  received  many  favors  at  his  hands  and  hoped  to  be  his  debtor  for 
many  more.  I  stood  leaning  against  the  door,  trying  to  mutter  some 
excuse,  growing  hot  and  cold  alternately  beneath  the  angry  glare  of  his 
eyes,  until  he  turned  away  and  strode  back  to  the  window.  I  wished 
the  great  iron  beams  that  upheld  the  solid  fire-proof  building  would 
give  way  and  let  me  drop  through  into  the  sub-basement,  twenty  feet 
below  the  level  of  the  sidewalk. 

"There,  there,  Swallow,"  said  Mr.  Gauge,  soothingly;  "what  is 
the  use  of  jumping  on  Fountain  in  that  style  because  he  doesn't  happen 
to  know  what  you  want  to  find  out  ?  He  is  not  to  blame." 

u  For  his  ignorance,  certainly  not,"  retorted  the  Junior,  still  gazing 
out  of  the  window,  "  but  he  is  responsible  for  his  impudence.  He,  of 
all  men,  has  no  right  to  speak  ill  of  Hazzard,  and  he  will  live  to  regret 
it, — if  he  has  sense  enough  to  know  what  is  fitting,  that  is,"  he  added, 
with  a  contemptuous  shrug. 

What  did  lie  mean  ?  Had  he  penetrated  my  secret  ?  Could  it  be 
possible  that  he  had  been  informed  of  my  folly  ?  I  think  I  must  have 
flushed  from  heel  to  crown  as  I  asked  myself  these  questions.  It  was 
three  years  since  I  had  seen  Mrs.  Murray.  I  had  attended  to  her  busi 
ness  faithfully,  and  the  sum  intrusted  to  my  care  had  steadily  and 
rapidly  increased,  owing  to  the  opportunities  for  good  investment  my 
position  with  Gauge  &  Swallow  offered.  Of  course  I  had  nursed  my 
love.  It  was  a  foolish,  perhaps  hardly  a  proper  thing  to  do,  but  how 
could  I  live  in  the  house  which  was  so  full  of  memories  of  her  without 
doing  so?  I  was  sure  Mr.  Swallow  knew  it.  How  much  more  did 


A  LEGAL  IMPRESSIONIST.  215 

he  know  ?  AVas  it  possible  that  he  knew  the  terrible  facts  of  her  life, 
— facts  I  would  have  died  to  conceal  ?  I  think  I  was  even  more  dis 
turbed  lest  he  should  think  ill  of  the  woman  I  loved  than  by  the 
thought  that  he  was  angry  with  me. 

"  Now,  you  are  really  too  bad,  Mr.  Swallow,"  said  his  partner,  re- 
monstrantly.  "  If  you  want  Fountain  to  do  anything,  let  him  know 
what  it  is,  but  don't  go  on  lecturing  him  about  a  matter  of  which  he 
knows  nothing.  He  meant  no  offence.  Tell  him  what  you  want,  or  let 
him  go,  and  give  the  whole  matter  up." 

"Very  well,  I  will,"  said  Mr.  Swallow,  wheeling  suddenly  around 
and  speaking  with  snappish  energy.  "  Mr.  Fountain,  can  you  be  ready 
to  go  to  Europe  by  the  next  steamer  that  leaves  ?" 

"Did  I  ever  decline  any  service  that  Gauge  &  Swallow  required,  or 
ask  an  hour's  delay  ?"  I  asked,  a  little  proudly,  I  suppose. 

"  You  never  did,  that's  a  fact,  Fountain,"  said  Mr.  Swallow,  with 
that  engaging  frankness  no  one  could  resist.  He  came  quickly  towards 
me,  extending  his  hand  as  he  spoke.  I  was  very  angry.  I  thought  he 
had  treated  me  unfairly,  but  I  could  not  resist,  for  a  moment  even,  this 
engaging  overture.  I  shook  his  hand  as  if  he  had  never  given  me 
cause  for  dissatisfaction.  The  next  moment  I  had  forgotten  that  one 
had  ever  existed. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Fountain,"  he  said,  smiling.  "  I  was 
wrong:  I  forgot  that  you  did  not  know  as  much  as  I  do  of  the  man 
of  whom  you  spoke.  I  have  a  strange  regard  for.  him,  which  you  can 
not  be  blamed  for  not  appreciating.  I  owe  him  a  great  deal,  and 
naturally  take  fire  when  one  speaks  slightingly  of  him.  When  can  you 
go?" 

"  At  once." 

"Let  me  see:  to-day  is  Tuesday.  See  if  a  'greyhound7  leaves  to 
morrow,  if  not,  take  one  of  the  Southampton  boats.  You  will  have 
to  go  to  France,  I  imagine.  By  the  way,  ask  Burrill  if  he  would  not 
like  to  take  a  trip  with  you, — at  our  expense,  of  course.  If  he  can 
go,  send  a  messenger  to  engage  two  passages.  Ask  Barnes  to  step  here 
as  you  go  out." 

It  was  hardly  a  quarter  of  an  hour  before  I  had  obtained  Burrill's 
consent,  and  sent  a  messenger  to  take  places  for  us.  Returning,  I  met. 
J Barnes  coming  out  of  the  room  with  a  curiously  puzzled  expression  on 
his  face. 

"  You  are  lucky,"  he  said,  in  a  whisper. 


216  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

"How  so?"  I  asked. 

"  Don't  pretend  ignorance.  I  have  orders  to  take  the  whole  force 
of  the  office,  if  necessary,  to  get  out  invitations  and  make  arrangements 
for  a  big  dinner  at  Delmonico's  to-night." 

"  To-night?" 

"  Certainly  :  aren't  you  going  away  to-morrow  ?  Gauge  &  Swallow 
don't  do  things  by  halves." 

Utterly  bewildered,  I  entered  the  room  and  reported  what  I  had 
done. 

"  Very  well,"  said  Mr.  Swallow,  glancing  at  his  watch.  He  like<d 
things  done  in  a  hurry,  even  if  there  were  plenty  of  time.  "  I  may  as 
well  tell  you  that  you  are  going  on  a  very  peculiar  mission  and  under 
very  peculiar  circumstances." 

"  Better  tell  him  he  is  going  on  a  fool's  errand,  and  done  with  it," 
said  Mr.  Gauge,  testily.  "  That's  just  what  it  is,  Swallow.  You  are 
sending  him  you  know  not  where,  to  do  you  know  not  what,  for  no 
conceivable  reason." 

"  In  a  sense  you  are  right,  partner,  but  it  is  a  question  whether  you 
would  have  me  do  a  seemingly  foolish  thing  or  go  to  an  insane  asylum. 
I  tell  you,  the  only  thing  to  be  done  in  such  a  case  is  to  obey.  Here  I 
have  been  for  two  hours  pursued  by  this  idea,  struggling  against  it, 
reasoning  with  myself,  listening  to  your  arguments, — all  to  no  purpose  ! 
I  had  not  a  minute's  peace  until  I  told  Fountain  to  get  ready  to  start. 
Now  I  have  decided.  You  know  it's  not  the  first  time  I  have  acted  on 
such  impressions;  and  I  do  not  remember  that  I  have  ever  made  amis- 
take  in  doing  so." 

"  Oh,  you  have  always  before  had  something  tangible — something 
outside  of  a  mere  fantastic  notion — to  justify  your  action." 

"  Perhaps,  in  the  cases  you  have  known  of  in  advance,"  said  Mr. 
Swallow,  "  that  has  been  true  ;  but  you  have  not  known  a  quarter  of 
the  instances  in  which  I  have  been  influenced  by  such  impressions.  I  do 
not  like  to  speak  of  them, — never  did.  I  hardly  know  why,  but  sup 
pose  it  is  for  the  same  reason  that  one  dislikes  to  be  considered  odd  or 
peculiar.  I  dislike  to  seem  to  disregard  your  judgment  or  do  anything 
you  do  not  approve " 

"It  is  not  that,"  interrupted  Mr.  Gauge.  "I  am  glad  you  are 
going  to  send  them.  Burrill  ought  to  have  a  year's  vacation  anyhow, 
but  he  will  never  take  it  unless  he  is  sent  on  some  business,  and  would 


A  LEGAL  IMPRESSIONIST.  217 

not  enjoy  himself  unless  Mr.  Fountain  was  with  him.  The  only  thing 
is,  it  seems  so  childish " 

"  \Yait  until  you  hear  what  I  am  going  to  tell  you,  and  then,  if  you 
object —why,  then  I'll— I'll " 

"  Well,  what  will  you  do  then  ?"  asked  the  Senior. 

"  I'll  ask  you  to  wait  and  see  how  it  turns  out,"  laughed  Mr. 
Swallow. 

"  Of  course,"  said  the  Senior,  good-humoredly.  "  You  always  have 
your  own  way,  and  I  don't  know  that  we  have  often  had  cause  to  regret 
it," 

"  Thanks,"  responded  the  Junior.  "  Mr.  Fountain,"  he  continued, 
"  will  you  lock  the  door,  please,  and  come  and  sit  down  here?" 

I  did  as  requested.  Mr.  Gauge  sat  at  my  left,  one  elbow  on  the  edge 
of  his  partner's  desk,  tearing  a  paper  into  minute  fragments,  as  he  often 
did  when  absorbed  in  thought, — a  most  dangerous  habit  to  indulge  in  a 
lawyer's  office,  by  the  way,  where  any  scrap  of  paper  may  be  of  im 
portance.  Mr.  Swallow  sat  down  in  his  office-chair,  swinging  it  around 
towards  us,  leaned  forward  upon  his  elbows,  his  shapely  head  hanging 
down  between  his  massive  shoulders  and  his  fingers  interlocked  before 
him, — a  very  favorite  position  with  him  when  engaged  in  the  discussion 
of  important  questions  with  his  partner. 

"  What  I  am  about  to  say,"  he  said,  with  a  slight  flush  on  his  face, 
"  I  would  not  care  to  have  repeated, — not  that  I  have  any  reason 
to  be  ashamed  of  it,  but  one  does  not  like  to  be  regarded  as  excep 
tional." 

Both  Mr.  Gauge  and  myself  assented  by  word  or  gesture. 

"  The  fact  is  that  almost  from  my  earliest  years  I  have  been  subject 
to  altogether  unaccountable  impressions.  Sometimes  they  have  been 
as  sharp  and  clear  as  the  outlines  of  a  photograph,  sometimes  indistinct 
but  positive  and  persistent.  Sometimes  I  have  resisted  them,  some 
times  yielded  to  them.  When  I  have  acted  on  them  I  have  usually  had 
occasion  to  congratulate  myself  on  the  fact.  When  I  have  not  I  have 
sometimes  regretted  it.  These  impressions  I  do  not  pretend  to  explain. 
Of  two  things  I  am  satisfied;  there  is  nothing  supernatural  about  them, 
and  they  are  only  to  a  very  limited  degree  under  my  control.  Yet  they 
rarely  if  ever  happen  except  in  reference  to  matters  in  which  I  have  a 
personal  interest  or  in  regard  to  which  I  have  thought  intently.  Some 
times  they  have  come  like  a  flash  of  lightning  athwart  the  current  of 
my  reflections,  and  again  they  have  been  like  the  sudden  opening  of  a 
19  K 


218  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

new  vista  along  a  path  I  was  already  pursuing.  But  always  they  have 
been  unexpected  and  unaccountable  upon  any  theory  attributing  them  to 
voluntary  mental  effort.  The  impression — so  far  as  I  can  determine — 
lias  usually  been  the  image  of  another's  thought, — the  duplicate  of  an  im 
pression  actually  existing  in  another  brain  at  the  moment  of  its  cognition 
by  me.  Sometimes  I  think  this  has  been  an  intended  and  sometimes 
an  involuntary  influence  exerted  by  another  mind  upon  my  own. 

"I  use  the  term  *  impression7  because,  really,  I  do  not  know  of  any 
other  that  would  express  my  meaning.  As  I  have  never  talked  of 
these  things,  so  I  have  refrained  from  reading  or  speculating  about 
them,  and  consequently  am  not  familiar  with  the  specific  terms  which 
are  employed  to  designate  phenomena  of  this  sort.  I  do  not  know 
why  I  should  have  this  feeling.  I  am  not  superstitious,  and  cannot 
conceive  why  I  should  have  any  hesitancy  about  admitting  or  exer 
cising  a  natural  faculty  for  the  possession  of  which  I  am  not  responsi 
ble.  Perhaps  it  is  because  I  have  had  a  feeling  that  too  much  atten 
tion  to  such  things  is  apt  to  weaken  other  more  important  intellectual 
qualities." 

"  I  guess  that's  a  fact/'  said  Mr.  Gauge,  sententiously.  "  At  least 
it  hurts  a  lawyer.  He  wants  to  stick  to  facts, — hard,  cold,  solid  facts. 
As  soon  as  he  lets  go  of  them  he's  sure  to  get  beyond  his  depth.  What 
would  become  of  Gauge  &  Swallow  if  people  heard  you  talking  about 
1  impressions'  as  a  basis  of  action  ?" 

"As  I've  said,  I  don't  like  it  myself,"  answered  Swallow,  candidly; 
"  but  some  of  my  best  successes  are  attributable  to  it.  Scores  of  times 
I  have  acted  on  impressions  which  certainly  were  not  the  result  of  my 
own  intellection,  and  almost  always  with  decidedly  valuable  and  usually 
quite  unexpected  results." 

"  Oli,  don't  say  that,"  said  the  Senior,  impatiently, "  or  at  least  don't 
expect  me  to  believe  it.  The  truth  is,  that  your  mind  acts  with  the 
instantaneousness  and  certainty  of  genius.  I've  noticed  it  a  thousand 
times  and  wondered  at  it.  Your  mind  acts  so  quickly  that  you  have 
no  chance  to  count  the  steps,  to  note  the  path,  as  a  plodder  like  me 
must  do." 

"You  think  so?"  asked  Mr.  Swallow. 

"  Think  so?  Of  course.  We  know  what  we  can  see  and  hear  and 
feel,  taste  and  smell,  and  the  deductions  we  draw  from  facts  thus 
learned,  and  that  is  all  we  do  know  !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Gauge. 


A  LEGAL  IMPRESSIONIST.  219 

"  Then  how  do  you  know  these  are  the  only  pathways  to  the  soul  ?" 
asked  the  Junior,  with  a  smile. 

"Because — because  nobody  has  ever  found  any  other,"  said  the 
Senior,  stoutly. 

"  Oh,  yes,  they  have :  here  are  my  impressions,  you  know." 

"  Well,  what  are  they  ?  Why  don't  you  define  and  test  and  use 
them  as  you  do  your  Intellect  ?" 

"  I  hardly  know  how  to  answer  your  questions,"  said  Mr.  Swallow, 
gravely.  "  I  am  not  sure  they  are  under  my  control.  Perhaps  some 
of  my  early  experiences  gave  me  a  shock.  I  will  tell  you  one  that 
gives  me  a  chill  even  yet  when  I  remember  it.  I  could  not  have  been 
more  than  ten  or  a  dozen  years  old.  A  family  of  cousins  lived  about 
twenty  miles  away.  I  had  been  very  familiar  with  them,  having  lived 
within  a  stone's  throw  of  their  house  until  a  year  or  two  before.  One 
of  them,  my  favorite,  had  been  sick  for  some  months.  After  I  had 
gone  to  bed  one  night  I  heard  her  brother  come  into  the  room  below, 
heard  my  father  ask  him  in  surprise  how  he  came  to  be  so  far  from 
home,  and  heard  his  grave  reply  that  his  sister  died  at  ten  o'clock  the 
night  before.  Blundering  and  blubbering,  I  went  down  the  stairs  into 
the  room  where  my  parents  were,  and  asked  for  the  cousin  whose  voice 
I  had  heard.  With  difficulty  I  was  convinced  that  he  was  not  in  the 
house.  The  next  morning,  while  we  sat  at  breakfast,  he  did  come, 
and  my  father's  conversation  with  him  was  word  for  word  what  I  had 
narrated  the  night  before." 

"  That  was  remarkable,"  said  Mr.  Gauge,  as  if  he  had  made  up 
his  mind  to  concede  that  and  nothing  more. 

"  These  impressions,  if  I  may  so  call  them,  sometimes  affect  the 
sensorium  through  the  sense  of  sight,  sometimes  through  that  of  hear 
ing.  Of  these,  sight  has  been  by  far  the  more  frequent,  but  those  con 
veyed  by  hearing  often  the  more  startling.  They  come  at  all  times  of 
day  or  night,  and,  I  might  almost  say,  sleeping  or  waking;  though 
their  effect,  unlike  that  of  an  ordinary  dream,  is  to  produce  the  most 
intense  wake  fulness.  However,  or  whenever,  they  may  come,  these 
impressions  are  sure  to  be  as  unexpected  and  as  startling  to  me  at  the 
moment  as  to  another  in  the  telling  of  them  afterwards.  I  recall  an 
instance  in  which  you  were  aware  of  the  results,  though  I  do  not  think 
you  were  ever  informed  of  the  cause. 

"Rushing  along  Broadway  one  day  to  meet  an  engagement,  I  sud 
denly  saw  my  wife  lying  pallid  and  blood-stained  by  a  rocky  roadside. 


220  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

Keeping  straight  on  to  the  station,  I  took  the  train  to  the  country  town, 
a  hundred  miles  away,  where  she  was  passing  the  summer  in  retirement, 
to  learn  that  at  the  very  moment  this  vision  had  occurred  to  me  she 
had  been  thrown  from  a  carriage  and  was  lying  just  where  I  had  seen 
her  in  a  deathly  swoon.  My  prescience  had  outrun  the  telegraph  by 
some  hours,  and  I  was  half-way  to  the  sufferer's  bedside  before  the  de 
spatch  summoning  me  there  was  delivered  here  at  the  office.  Had  I 
waited  until  it  came  I  could  not  have  gone  before  Monday,  and  I 
tremble  to  think  what  might  have  been  the  result  of  this  delay." 

"  Yes,  I  remember  you  went  off  very  unaccountably,"  answered  the 
Senior. 

"  There  is  another  case  you  well  remember,  too,"  continued  Mr.  Swal 
low.  "  Looking  into  a  witness's  eyes  once,  I  saw  the  scene  of  an  unsus 
pected  crime, — its  surroundings  complete  and  perfect  as  in  a  photograph. 
I  had  never  seen  it — could  never  have  seen  it — before.  I  knew  the  man 
was  a  criminal,  not  from  evidence,  for  he  was  of  good  repute,  but  by 
instinctive  conviction.  I  had  hunted  for  weeks  to  find  the  joint  in  his 
armor  and  save  a  good  man  from  his  malice  and  greed ;  but  until  I 
looked  into  his  eyes  and  saw  that  scene,  I  had  no  idea  what  the  crime 
was  which  had  left  its  mark  on  his  life.  It  was  accounted  strange 
the  way  the  man  broke  down  under  my  cross-examination,  cowering, 
cringing,  and  finally  falling  over  in  a  'dead  faint.  It  was  unusual, 
and  added  greatly  to  my  reputation ;  very  undeservedly,  however,  as 
the  knowledge  was  not  acquired  by  study  or  investigation,  but  was  fur 
nished  me  at  the  moment  by  the  offender  himself,  whose  fear  painted 
his  guilt  so  vividly  that  I  could  not  help  seeing  its  details. 

"  These  are  only  instances.  I  could  cite  a  good  many  others,  and 
suppose  I  have  forgotten  more  than  I  can  remember.  Sometimes  I 
have  been  amused,  sometimes  terrified,  at  the  outcome.  I  have  always 
stoutly  resisted  any  suggestion  of  preternatural  influence,  however,  and 
have  adopted,  as  my  own  solution  of  these  phenomena,  the  hypothesis 
that  such  impressions  are  transmitted  by  other  minds  in  some  way  and 
manner  to  me  unknown,  but  which  I  believe  to  be  perfectly  natural.  I 
may  as  well  say  that  I  seem  only  able  to  receive  such  impressions,  with 
out,  so  far  as  I  know,  any  unusual  power  of  transmitting  or  creating 
them." 

"  It  is  certainly  very  singular,"  said  Mr.  Gauge,  as  he  nervously 
cracked  the  knuckle-joints  first  of  one  hand  and  then  of  the  other, — a 
habit  he  had  when  perplexed. 


A  LEGAL  IMPRESSIONIST.  221 

"  Perhaps  the  most  singular  thing  about  it  is,"  resumed  Mr. 
Swallow,  "  that  a  considerable  number  of  these  impressions  have  been 
caused  by,  or  rather  have  been  connected  with,  the  affairs  of  Mr.  Andrew 
M.  Hazzard.  You  know  he  claims  to  be  a  spiritist,  and  attributes  his 
good  luck  to  the  power  he  possesses  to  distinguish  between  kindly  and 
malign  essences.  I  question  if  he  believes  any  of  this  nonsense,  but 
I  cannot  doubt  that  he  has  a  peculiar  faculty  of  impressing  others 
with  his  ideas,  and  that  this  power  has  contributed  largely  to  his 
success." 

"  I  do  hope,  Mr.  Swallow,"  said  the  senior  partner,  with  pathetic 
earnestness,  "  that  you  have  not  imbibed  any  of  these  modern  notions 
about  the  power  of  one  person's  will  over  another's  consciousness.  I 
don't  care  whether  it  is  called  spiritism,  magnetism,  hypnotism,  or  given 
the  good  old  legal  name,  diabolism.  I  don't  believe  in  it  under  any 
of  them'." 

"  What  I  refer  to,"  answered  Mr.  Swallow,  quietly,  "  is  not  so 
much  an  influence  of  the  will  as  an  enlargement  of  the  field  of  appre 
hension, — a  means  of  conveying  knowledge,  information,  desire,  to 
another,  without  the  use  of  ordinary  material  media.  Of  course  I 
speak  mainly  of  the  phenomena  of  reception.  I  do  not  remember  an 
instance  in  which  I  have  been  influenced  through  the  will.  I  have 
never  had  the  mere  undefined  impression  that  I  must  do  this  or  that 
clinging  to  me  and  compelling  the  performance  of  a  specific  behest, 
though  I  have  often  found  myself  informed,  in  some  unexplainable  way, 
of  facts  which  I  could  not  have  learned  by  the  ordinary  processes  of 
intellection.  My  first  connection  with  Mr.  Hazzard  was  a  striking  in 
stance  of  this.  I  have  only  told  two  persons  about  the  matter,  and 
would  not  speak  of  it  now  except  to  convince  you  that  I  have  good 
reasons  for  the  course  I  have  adopted." 

"  You  seem  to,  certainly,"  interrupted  Mr.  Gauge.  "  The  more  I 
think  about  the  situation  the  more  favorably  I  am  inclined  to  the 
course  you  have  adopted ;  but  I  do  not  believe  that  any  one  whose 
bodily  presence  is  in  France  could  influence  the  mind  of  another  here 
in  New  York." 

"  He  may  not  be  in  France,"  said  Mr.  Swallow,  "  I  would  not  say 
that ;  but  he  is  somewhere  in  a  region  with  which  I  am  unacquainted, 
in  a  great  house,  in  a  bed  with  a  curious  heavy  canopy.  He  wants  to 
do  some  particular  thing  without  delay.  There  is  a  woman  with  him 
who  is  at  her  wits'  end  to  know  what  to  do." 
19* 


222  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

"  And  you  think  you  learned  these  facts — if  they  should  prove  to 
be  facts — through  certain  mental  impressions  produced  by  the  action  of 
a  mind  three  thousand  miles  away  ?"  queried  Mr.  Gauge. 

"  Well,  yes,  1  think  so.  If  1  were  not  a  lawyer  1  should  probably 
say  I  know  I  did.  Suppose  you  hear  how  I  got  my  first  retainer  from 
him,  and  then  judge  whether  I  have  not  reason  to  entertain  this  belief." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Mr.  Gauge,  grimly. 

"  I  wrote  the  facts  down,"  continued  Mr.  Swallow,  taking  a  thin, 
worn  volume  from  his  desk,  "  at  the  time  they  occurred,  and  you  will 
find  them  crudely  stated  in  this  old  case-book.  You  know  with  what 
scrupulous  care  a  young  lawyer  notes  the  facts  concerning  his  first 
case.  Well,  here  it  is.  The  first  letter  from  Hazzard  was  received 
about  two  years  before  our  partnership  began.  I  was  only  a  young 
country  lawyer  then,  with  no  more  thought  of  coming  to  the  city  than 
you  had  of  offering  me  a  partnership.  I  got  it  from  the  village  post- 
office  in  the  morning,  and  kept  thinking  of  it  all  day  in  the  intervals 
of  my  work.  The  proposition  it  contained  was  altogether  new  in  my 
experience.  The  debtor — for  it  was  a  claim  for  money  due  —  lived 
more  than  a  hundred  miles  away,  in  one  of  the  most  inconvenient  cor 
ners  of  the  State ;  the  creditor,  in  this  city.  Looking  at  the  matter 
since,  the  wonder  hag  been  that  I  ever  thought  of  undertaking  the 
collection  at  all.  I  knew  nothing  about  the  debtor,  his  business  or 
ability,  except  the  fact  that  I  had  a  few  years  before  made  the  acquaint 
ance  of  a  young  man  of  that  name  who  had  a  brother  living  in  the 
town  where  the  debtor  resided,  and  I  remembered  that  the  initials  of 
their  Christian  names  were  the  same.  The  debt  was  witnessed  by  a 
promissory  note,  long  past  due,  which  my  client — my  would-be  client, 
that  is — had  endorsed  to  me.  He  had  sent,  also,  a  duly-executed 
power  of  attorney  authorizing  me  to  take  such  steps  for  the  collection 
or  adjustment  of  the  claim  as  I  might  see  fit.  I  could  have  compro 
mised  the  whole  matter,  you  see,  for  five  cents,  and  the  holder  of  the 
note  would  have  had  no  recourse  whatever.  Perhaps  this  unusual 
display  of  confidence  in  a  stranger,  together  with  the  closing  words  of 
the  creditor's  letter,  flattered  my  vanity  and  inclined  me  to  undertake 
the  task.  '  I  am  fully  satisfied/  he  wrote,  '  that  you  will  succeed  if 
you  will  undertake  the  collection/  Before  I  reached  home  that  even 
ing,  I  had  made  up  my  mind  to  go  to  Deplaines,  where  Mr.  Finger, 
the  debtor,  lived. 

"  I  was  not  married  at  that  time,  but  had  a  sister  who  was  my 


A  LEGAL  IMPRESSIONIST.  223 

senior  partner.  I  have  always  been  a  '  Junior/  you  see,"  he  added, 
with  a  smile  at  Mr.  Gauge.  "  Hardly  had  I  dissolved  partnership 
with  her,  when  you  invited  me  to  come  in  with  you.  My  sister  was 
a  very  faithful  partner.  She  always  asked  me  about  the  day's  business, 
— not  that  I  was  at  all  averse  to  telling  her,  but  she  thought  it  would 
help  me  if  she  showed  an  interest  in  my  work.  Poor  girl,  she  had  a 
right  to  take  an  interest  in  it !  She  had  invested  all  the  little  share 
she  had  inherited  from  our  father's  estate  in  my  education,  and  had 
pinched  and  contrived  for  many  a  year,  putting  aside  the  thoughts  of 
love  and  pleasure  that  come  into  a  young  girl's  heart,  in  order  that  I 
might  be  fitted  for  my  profession.  When  I  told  her  of  the  letter,  it 
was  easy  to  see  that  she  did  not  at  all  fancy  the  idea  of  my  undertaking 
the  collection. 

" '  Are  there  no  lawyers  in  Deplaines  ?'  she  asked,  sharply. 

"  *  Lots  of  them/  I  answered. 

"'Good  ones,  too?' 

"<Oh,  of  course.' 

"'  And  there  are  three  or  four  cities  nearer  than  this  village?' 

"<  Certainly.' 

" '  Doesn't  it  strike  you  as  odd  that  this  man  should  have  passed  by 
all  the  eminent  lawyers  in  them  to  employ  you  ?' 

"  *  It  is  very  flattering/  I  answered. 

*  " '  Flattering !     My  dear  brother/  she  answered,  '  I  am  afraid  you 
are  growing  vain !' 

"  l  Then  you  have  made  me  so.  You  are  always  insisting  that  I 
would  overtop  them  all  if  I  had  a  chance.' 

"  '  But  I  know  you.' 

"'Which  only  shows  the  wisdom  of  my  prospective  client. 
What  was  it  was  said  to  Thomas,  "  Blessed  be  they  who  believe  but 
have  not  seen"  ?' 

"  '  Perhaps  if  you  were  not  my  brother  my  own  faith  would  be  a 
little  weak/  she  answered,  laughingly.  i  But  this  man  does  not  know 
you,  has  evidently  hardly  heard  of  you,  yet  he  skips  over  a  hundred 
lawyers,  just  as  good,  perhaps,  to  put  his  business  in  your  hands.  Isn't 
it  singular  ?' 

" '  It  is  not  usual/  I  answered,  only  half  pleased  at  her  words. 

"  '  Would  you  take  such  a  course?' 

" '  It  is  not  likely  that  I  would.' 

"  '  I'll  tell  you  what  I  think/  said  the  dear  woman,  with  unusual 


224  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

positiveness.  'There  is  something  wrong  about  the  claim,  or  perhaps 
about  the  man.7 

" '  And  you  think  I  had  better  not  take  hold  of  it?' 

" f  Most  certainly,  my  dear.  You  know  how  doggedly  you  hold  on 
to  such  a  thing  when  once  you  are  engaged  in  it.  You  seem  to  be 
literally  incapable  of  letting  go.  You  give  time  and  money  and  trouble 
without  stint  to  what  you  have  undertaken.  In  this  case  you  would 
lose  your  time  and  squander  the  money  already  earned,  without  any 
reasonable  hope  of  recovering  it.  Probably  this  man  knows  it,  and 
would  like  to  employ  you  as  a  very  last  chance  of  getting  his  money. 
You  can't  afford  such  experiments.  Be  sure  if  this  had  been  collectible, 
an  attorney  nearer  to  Deplaines  would  have  been  retained.' 

"  I  could  not  deny  the  justice  of  her  conclusion,  and  yet  felt  an 
unusual  disinclination  to  act  upon  it.  During  the  night  I  had  a  re 
markable  dream.  You  must  remember  that  I  had  never  been  in  De- 
plaiues,  and,  so  far  as  I  know,  had  never  heard  anything  about  it  what 
ever  ;  I  had  never  seen  Mr.  Finger,  nor  had  I  any  idea  of  his  personal 
appearance  or  occupation.  I  dreamed  that  I  had  undertaken  the  collec 
tion  of  the  note  in  rny  possession,  had  travelled  all-  day  and  reached 
Deplaines  about  sundown.  The  station  was  at  the  foot  of  a  low  hill, 
through  which  the  railroad  passed  by  a  deep  cut.  There  was  no  village 
in  sight.  To  a  jesting  remark  of  mine  the  hack-driver  replied  that  I 
would  find  it  quite  a  town  when  we  got  to  it.  I  knew  it  to  be  a  county- 
Beat.  Entering  the  hack,  we  drove  around  the  base  of  the  hill,  climbed 
to  the  top,  and  drove  over  the  railroad-cut  into  the  town.  Stopping 
before  a  house  with  large  pillars  in  front  and  a  flight  of  stone  steps,  I 
said, — 

"  l  This  looks  like  the  court-house.' 

" e  So  it  was,  or  part  of  it,  rather,'  answered  the  driver,  '  but  when 
the  county  concluded  to  build  a  new  one  they  sold  this,  and  the  man 
who  bought  it  added  a  wing  at  each  side  and  made  a  hotel  of  it.' 

"  Entering,  I  advanced  to  the  desk,  by  which  stood  a  small  man 
with  light  blue  eyes  and  exceedingly  blonde  hair.  Having  signed  the 
register,  I  asked  for  a  room.  The  red-haired  clerk  whirled  the  book 
on  its  pivoted  rest,  and,  glancing  at  my  name,  extended  his  hand, 
and  said, — 

"  l  This  is  Mr.  Swallow,  isn't  it?  You  remember  my  brother  Joe? 
— Joe  Finger?  Ah,  I  thought  so.  He  is  a  great  admirer  of  yours. 
You  have  come  about  that  matter  of  Hazzard's,  I  suppose?  Well, 


A  LEGAL  IMPRESSIONIST.  225 

you  are  just  in  time.  Joe  says  you  always  are.  Step  right  in  to 
supper:  I  will  send  your  things  to  your  room,  and  afterwards  we  will 
fix  it  all  up,  so  that  you  can  go  back  on  the  morning  train.' 

"  He  opened  the  door  of  the  dining-room  as  he  spoke,  and  led  me 
to  the  head  of  the  table,  at  which  sat  a  woman  who  was  my  very  ideal 
of  loveliness, — a  study  in  red,  white,  and  blue.  I  have  always  been 
patriotic  in  my  ideals  of  femininity,  you  know. 

" '  This  is  my  sister  Harriet/  said  the  landlord.  I  was  given  a 
place  at  her  right  hand.  In  those  days  the  hostess  of  a  country  hotel 
always  sat  at  her  own  board,  and  was  the  social  equal  of  the  most  dis 
tinguished  guest.  So  I  felt  myself  greatly  honored,  and  was  soon 
delighted  with  my  companion.  From  that  point  my  dream  was  a 
strange  medley  of  red  hair,  blue  eyes,  and  bank-bills." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say,"  interrupted  Mr.  Gauge,  "  that ?" 

"  Hold  on,"  said  the  Junior :  "  don't  get  ahead  of  the  story.  When 
I  announced  my  intention  of  going  to  Deplaines  the  next  morning,  I 
told  sister  my  dream,  leaving  out  all  mention  of  the  landlord's  sister, 
however.  Of  course  she  was  severe  enough  on  my  folly,  saying  that 
the  reason  I  gave  for  my  decision  was  even  worse  than  the  decision  itself. 

"  Well,  I  went,  that  very  day,  and  you  may  judge  of  my  surprise 
when  step  by  step  every  incident  of  that  dream  was  repeated.  The 
little  station,  the  road  around  the  hill,  the  bridge  across  the  cut,  the 
hotel  with  the  great  pilasters  in  front,  the  scrubby  red-haired  proprietor, 
the  promise  to  arrange  the  debt,  and  the  fascinating  sister, — all  were 
there  exactly  as  I  had  seen  them.  Even  the  proprietor's  greeting  was 
in  the  very  words  of  my  dream.  I  was  dumb  with  amazement. 
What  I  said  or  did  during  that  meal  I  never  knew.  After  supper  the 
landlord  took  me  into  his  office,  counted  out  three  thousand  eight  hun 
dred  dollars  in  cash,  and  transferred  to  me  bonds  secured  by  mortgage 
for  the  balance.  He  was  just  selling  off  his  property,  intending  to  go 
West,  where  his  brother  had  lived  for  some  years.  He  had  not  been 
able  to  pay  before,  and  possibly  might  not  have  remained  able  to  do  so 
much  longer.  Both  the  brothers  had  bad  luck  out  West,  and  I  doubt 
if  Sam  ever  had  as  much  money  at  one  time  again  in  his  life. 

"  After  the  business  was  concluded,  I  asked  about  his  sister,  and 
found  she  was  unmarried,  heart  free  as  far  as  he  knew,  and  very  un 
willing  to  go  West.  I  asked  to  see  her,  and  we  went  into  the  parlor, 
where  she  sat  alone  before  a  blazing  wood-fire,  doing  some  sort  of 
fancy  knitting,  with  a  book  lying  open  on  her  lap.  She  went  on  with 

K* 


226  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

her  knitting,  rocking  back  and  forth,  while  we  chatted  pleasantly  for  a 
few  moments.  Then  my  agitation  overpowered  me,  and,  begging  them 
to  excuse  my  abruptness,  I  walked  up  and  down  the  room  and  told 
them  of  my  dream.  I  could  see  her  face  flush  and  pale  as  I  went  on, 
and  when  I  had  concluded  she  sat  looking  at  me  like  one  entranced 
with  a  terror  which  was  not  altogether  repellent.  Hardly  knowing 
what  I  did,  I  proposed  then  and  there  for  her  hand.  I  was  about  to 
speak  of  my  prospects,  in  justification  of  my  presumption,  when  she 
said,  as  if  thinking  aloud,  l  You  do  not  seem  like  a  stranger,  Mr. 
Swallow/  Then,  as  if  frightened  at  what  she  said,  her  face  grew 
crimson,  she  cast  down  her  eyes,  and  tried  to  resume  her  knitting.  I 
saw  that  her  hands  trembled,  and  wondered  why  they  should.  As  for 
myself,  I  hardly  knew  whether  I  was  waking  or  sleeping. 

" '  She  means  that  we  have  heard  Joe  talk  about  you  so  much  that 
we  seemed  to  know  you  before  you  came/  said  her  brother,  to  relieve 
her  agitation. 

"  *  Of  course  that  is  what  I  meant/  she  said,  as  she  bowed  her  head 
over  her  work,  and  I  saw  a  flush  creep  over  the  snowy  cheek  and 
tinge  the  ear  that  just  showed  beneath  the  tide  of  auburn  strands  above 
it.  Then  it  flashed  upon  me  that  this  was  not  what  she  meant,  and  I 
grew  bold,  and  going  around  in  front  of  her  I  took  her  hand,  and 
said, — 

"  '  Harriet,  will  you  let  me  have  this?7 

"  *  'Pears  to  me  this  is  rather  sudden/  said  Sam,  jocularly.  '  Do  let 
her  have  until  morning  to  decide,  anyhow.' 

"  I  thought  the  remark  very  inappropriate,  but  responded,  as 
gallantly  as  I  could, — 

"  '  Certainly,  if  that  is  her  wish/ 

" '  If  you  please,  sir/  she  answered,  not  raising  her  eyes.  Never 
theless,  she  gave  me  her  answer  then  and  there,  for  as  I  escorted  her  to 
the  door,  still  holding  her  hand,  she  raised  her  eyes,  and  gave  my  hand 
a  distinct  pressure  that  nearly  made  ruy  heart  leap  out  of  my  bosom. 

" '  Well,  I  declare  I'  said  Sam,  as  I  returned  and  sat  down  upon 
the  chair  his  sister  had  just  vacated,  anxious  to  caress  anything  she  had 
touched.  'Joe  always  said  you  were  a  master  hand  at  having  your 
own  way ;  but  this  does  beat  everything.  You've  just  bewitched  that 
girl,  and  I  shall  have  to  go  off  West  alone.  Anybody  can  see  that. 
I  don't  blame  you, — I've  been  in  love  with  her  myself  ever  since  she 
was  a  baby, — but  it'll  come  hard  for  me  to  make  up  her  part  of  the 


A  LEGAL  IMPRESSIONIST.  227 

property.  You  see/  he  said,  regretfully,  '  I  am  just  selling  off  here  to 
try  and  raise  money  enough  to  buy  a  tract  of  land  out  where  land's 
cheap.  Now  't  I've  had  to  pay  that  note  of  Hazzard's,  if  I  have  to 
fix  out  Hattie  too,  I  shan't  have  anything  left,  to  speak  of/ 

"'My  dear  fellow/  I  said,  reaching  him  my  hand,  'if  it  should  be 
as  you  intimate,  don't  give  yourself  any  uneasiness.  She  won't  want 
anything:  I'd  rather  she  didn't  have  anything,  so  that  she  may  owe 
all  she  has  to  me.' 

"  When  I  went  into  the  parlor  the  next  morning,  I  did  not  need 
to  hear  the  answer.  I  merely  took  her  in  my  arms,  kissed  her  lips, 
and  had  just  begun  to  speak  about  our  plans  for  the  future,  when  the 
omnibus-driver  called,  'All  aboard/  and  I  had  only  time  to  snatch 
another  kiss  or  two  and  hurry  away.  My  sister  did  not  look  especially 
pleased  at  what  I  told  her  on  my  return  ;  but  when  I  had  reported 
the  collection  to  Hazzard,  saying  nothing  about  compensation  for  my 
services,  and  he  had  replied,  good-naturedly,  *  Remit  me  three  thousand 
dollars  by  New  York  draft,  hold  the  notes  for  collection,  keep  the  re 
mainder  for  your  services,  and  consider  yourself  retained  as  my  general 
counsel/  she  ceased  to  refer  with  disapproval  to  what  I  had  done. 
When,  a  fortnight  afterwards,  I  brought  home  my  bride, — for  I  could 
not  delay  the  Western  journey, — she  welcomed  her  with  true  sisterly 
devotion,  and  the  domestic  partnership  was  never  disturbed  until  she 
was  taken  from  us." 

The  Junior's  eyes  were  cast  down,  as  if  overwhelmed  with  sad  yet 
pleasant  memories. 

"  That  was  certainly  very  singular,"  said  Mr.  Gauge,  after  a  moment's 
silence ;  "  but,  of  course,  one  can  easily  see  that  your  dream  was  the 
result  of  your  own  unconscious  intellection,  and  not  due  to  the  influence 
of  another  mind." 

"  Indeed  ?"  said  Mr.  Swallow,  looking  up  quickly  :  "  how  do  you 
make  that  out?" 

"  Why,  it  was  natural  enough  that  you  should  dream  of  the  brother 
and  sister,  and  give  them  their  proper  personalities,  because  of  the 
family  resemblance  to  their  brother." 

"  So  ?"  said  Mr.  Swallow,  with  a  smile  playing  over  his  face.  "  Well, 
lot  me  tell  you  about  that :  Joe  Finger  was  a  big,  dark-bearded  fellow, 
\\hom  no  one  would  ever  imagine  to  be  akin  to  peach  cheeks  or  red 
hair." 


228  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

"  But  you  had  heard  him  speak  of  his  brother  and  sister  ?"  persisted 
the  Senior. 

"  I  suppose  so,"  assented  Mr.  Swallow,  "  but  I  never  imagined  them 
at  all  what  they  were.  So  strong  was  this  belief  that,  when  my  sister 
insisted  the  next  morning  that  dreams  went  by  contraries,  I  said  that 
must  be  so,  for  Joe  Finger  could  not  have  a  brother  who  was  red- 
haired  and  undersized." 

"  H'm,"  said  Mr.  Gauge,  evidently  not  altogether  pleased  with  this 
failure  of  his  hypothesis ;  "  but  you  had  heard,  of  course,  that  he  was 
a  hotel-keeper  ?" 

"  On  the  contrary,  I  had  not  seen  or  heard  from  Joe  after  his  brother 
became  a  publican." 

"  You  were  at  least  prepared  to  like  your  friend's  relations " 

"  Nothing  of  the  kind.  He  seldom  spoke  of  them,  and,  when  he 
did,  not  in  a  way  to  awaken  one's  interest  in  them,  and  still  less  to  stir 
any  liking  for  them." 

"And  you  had  never  heard  anything  about  the  general  charac 
teristics  of  the  town  ?" 

"  Not  a  word." 

"  And  Hazzard — did  he  know  anything  of  them  ?" 

"  Every  detail :  it  was  there  that  his  great  invention  was  worked 
out.  He  knew  exactly  what  I  would  be  likely  to  see  on  my  arrival." 

"  He  didn't  know  that  his  debtor  would  be  willing  to  come  down 
like  Crockett's  coon  without  waiting  to  be  shot,  I  suppose?"  said  Mr. 
Gauge,  as  if  he  had  stated  a  clincher. 

"  If  you  won't  think  it  absurd,  I  will  tell  you  what  I  afterwards 
learned  that  he  did  know,"  said  Mr.  Swallow.  Without  waiting  for 
any  express  assent,  he  went  on  :  "  It  seems  he  did  know  that  Sam  was 
selling  off  his  property,  and  surmised  that  he  was  going  West.  He 
knew,  too,  that  there  were  other  creditors, — enough  to  swallow  up  about 
all  that  he  could  raise,  more  than  enough  if  any  of  them  were  so  indis 
creet  as  to  try  and  get  ahead  of  the  others.  He  knew  that  the  debtor 
had  derived  from  his  brother  Joe  a  most  exaggerated  idea  of  my  shrewd 
ness,  pertinacity,  and  skill." 

"An  exaggerated  idea,  Mr.  Swallow?"  said  the  Senior,  with  a 
laugh  :  "  that  is  putting  it  too  strong.  Say,  a  just  idea." 

"  One's  partners  and  kindred  have  always  a  right  to  flatter,"  said 
Mr.  Swallow,  with  a  pleasant  gesture  of  acknowledgment.  "  Kxaggor- 


A  LEGAL  IMPRESSIONIST.  229 

ated  or  just,  it  was  all  the  same  in  its  effect  on  the  mind  of  my  future 
brother-in-law." 

"  And  it  was  entirely  on  account  of  the  prestige  you  had  with  the 
brother  that  you  were  selected  instead  of  any  of  the  local  bar  ?" 

"  Not  at  all.  You  remember  I  told  you  there  were  other  debts. 
Everybody  knew  this,  but  nobody  except  Hazzard  suspected  that  Sam 
Finger  was  going  to  run  away, — for  that  was  Avhat  he  intended,  and 
what  he  did  do  as  soon  as  I  married  his  sister.  Indeed,  he  started  with 
us  on  our  wedding-journey  homeward  and  forgot  to  return." 

"  I  still  do  not  see  why  this  was  any  reason  for  employing  you 
instead  of  one  of  the  local  bar,"  persisted  Mr.  Gauge. 

"  I  suppose  Hazzard  thought  if  he  employed  a  local  attorney  it 
would  get  out ;  all  the  other  creditors  would  jump  in,  Sam  would  run 
off,  and  he  would  lose  his  debt." 

"  Ah,"  said  Mr.  Gauge,  "  there  is  something  in  that." 

"  At  least  you  will  admit  that  I  made  no  mistake  in  acting  on  that 
impression  ?" 

"  Of  course." 

"  You  see,  I  got  a  bigger  fee  than  I  had  ever  received  before,  the  best 
client  I  ever  had,  whose  business  brought  me  the  best  partner  in  New 
York,  and  a  wife  besides." 

"  Who  is  worth  all  the  rest,"  said  the  Senior,  gallantly. 

"  With  this  experience,  now,  do  you  wonder  that  I  feel  bound  to  act 
on  an  impression  so  vivid  as  that  which  startled  me  at  my  work  this 
morning?"  asked  Mr.  Swallow. 

"  I  can't  say  I  do,"  answered  Mr.  Gauge,  seriously. 

"  May  I  ask  what  it  was?"  I  inquired. 

"  It  is  necessary  that  you  should  know,  as  it  is  the  cause  of  your 
being  sent  without  definite  instruction.  I  was  sitting  here  hard  at 
work  upon  this  brief,  when  all  at  once  I  saw  Hazzard  as  I  have  de 
scribed  him,  evidently  suffering  and  in  trouble,  and  heard  him  say,  as 
plainly  as  if  one  of  you  were  speaking,  '  Send  Fountain  immediately  !' 
It  was  repeated  two  or  three  times,  and  startled  me  so  that  I  called  Mr. 
Gauge,  and  he  had  been  trying  to  convince  me  that  I  was  dreaming, 
when  you  came  in.  That  is  why  I  was  so  fretted." 

"  Have  you  any  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Hazzard  ?"  asked  the  Senior, 
glancing  keenly  at  me. 

"  I  have  seen  him  once  or  twice,  but  never  spoke  with  him,"  I 
answered. 
20 


230  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

"  It  is  very  strange,"  he  murmured. 

"  You  see,"  said  Mr.  Swallow,  "  it  could  not  have  been  any  associ 
ation  of  the  two  in  my  mind.  I  never  thought  of  them  in  connection 
with  each  other." 

"  I  suppose  not,"  said  Mr.  Gauge,  absently. 

•' What  am  I  expected  to  do  ?"  I  asked,  after  a  moment's  silence. 

"  Find  Mr.  Hazzard  and  place  yourself  at  his  service, — that  is  all. 
Mr.  Burrill  will  go  with  you.  I  hardly  know  why,  but  I  think  he 
had  better,  and  Mr.  Gauge  agrees  with  me.  I  am  Mr.  Hazzard's  ex 
ecutor  and  residuary  legatee,  you  know." 

I  shook  my  head. 

"  Well,  I  am.  I  will  have  a  copy  of  the  will  prepared  for  you  and 
Mr.  Burrill.  It  may  be  convenient.  I  don't  know  what  he  wants  of 
you,  but,  whatever  it  may  be,  do  it !  Don't  mind  expense  nor  ask  for 
reasons ;  no  matter  how  absurd  or  trivial  it  may  seem  to  you,  do  it 
instantly.  Follow  his  instructions  to  the  very  letter  and  with  the 
utmost  despatch.  No  man  who  did  that  ever  had  cause  to  regret 
serving  Andrew  M.  Hazzard." 

''  You  know  I  can  do  that,"  I  said,  with  some  pride. 

:<Yes,"  he  responded,  with  a  laugh.  "You  have  had  a  good 
training.  Talk  about  soldierly  obedience !  Nobody  learns  to  obey 
orders  and  ask  no  questions  so  thoroughly  as  a  man  who  works  his 
way  up  in  a  law-office.  By  the  way,"  he  added,  "  you  will  soon  learn 
that  the  old  firm  is  to  be  dissolved  and  a  new  one  established.  We 
had  intended  to  wait  until  the  new  year  and  celebrate  our  ( silver  wed 
ding'  in  style," — he  glanced  archly  at  his  partner  as  he  spoke, — "  but 
you  and  Burrill  may  not  be  back  in  time :  so  we  have  decided  to  rush 
it  and  have  a  little  spread  to-night.  Of  course  we  couldn't  have  it 
without  him, — that  would  spoil  the  pleasure  of  the  thing, — and  you 
must  hasten  your  preparations  so  as  to  be  with  us.  Eight  o'clock, 
sharp, — up-town  Delmonico's.  Have  an  eye  to  Mr.  BurrilPs  matters, 
too.  Ask  him  to  step  here  a  moment :  we  have  some  business  to  talk 
over  with  him.  When  you  get  back  there  will  be  a  new  sign  on  the 
door." 

"  I  shall  be  sorry  to  miss  the  old  name,"  I  said,  rising  to  depart. 

"  Tut,  tut !"  he  said,  tapping  me  lightly  on  the  shoulder  as  he  fol 
lowed  me  to  the  door.  "  It  is  the  new  king  of  whom  one  should  speak 
well.  But  don't  forget  what  I  told  you  about  Hazzard.  Do  whatever 
he  requires,  and  ask  no  questions." 


A  LEGAL  IMPRESSIONIST.  231 

"  The  woman  who  is  with  him  ?"  I  asked,  hesitantly. 

"  I  don't  know  anything  about  her,"  he  answered,  carelessly.  "  She 
is  his  wife,  though,  and,  I  take  it,  a  very  remarkable  woman,  from  the 
influence  she  exerts  over  him.  I  thought  he  might  be  seriously  enam 
oured  of  your  Mrs.  Murray,  who  went  off  with  him ;  but  she  seems  to 
have  disappeared.  This  woman  is  his  wife." 

"His  wife?" 

'l  Yes,  I  think  so,"  he  answered,  seriously. 

"How  many  others  has  he?"  I  asked,  bitterly.  Strange  as  it  may 
seem,  I  was  angry  that  he  had  deserted  my  client,  the  woman  I  loved. 

"  What? — wives ?"  asked  the  Junior,  with  a  laugh.  " Don't  ask : 
it  will  be  time  enough  to  decide  that  when  he  is  dead.  All  we  know 
now  is  that  he  has  summoned  you  and  that  you  will  do  his  bidding — 
faithfully.  Remember  that." 

I  went  out,  and  the  door  closed  behind  me.  I  had  received  my  last 
instructions  from  Gauge  &  Swallow. 


XII. 

A  DISSOLVING  VIEW. 

AUGE  &  SWALLOW  were  about  to  dissolve.  .  A  partnership  of 
twenty-five  years'  duration  was  about  to  terminate  a  career  of  sin 
gular  brilliancy  and  success.  Of  course  the  old  partners  would  remain. 
The  same  old  names  would  be  upon  the  door-plate  and  on  the  letter 
heads  ;  but  some  other  name  would  be  joined  with  them, — some  other  voice 
would  be  heard  in  the  counsels  of  the  firm, — some  other  presence  be 
added  to  the  familiar  consultations.  I  had  been  with  them  almost  ten 
years.  Except  Mr.  Barnes  and  Mr.  Burrill,  I  was  the  oldest  in  length 
of  service  of  all  their  assistants.  My  life  had  been  exceptionally  pleasant 
with  them.  If  I  had  seldom  won  praise,  I  had  even  less  frequently 
received  blame.  If  I  had  not  always  merited  approval,  I  had  never 
failed  to  do  my  best  to  deserve  it.  From  the  first  I  had  realized  that  I 
was  not  a  favorite  with  either  of  the  partners,  but  I  strove  unceasingly 
to  make  myself  useful  to  them.  If  they  did  not  believe  me  capable  of 
great  things,  I  was  determined  they  should  know  that  I  would  do  little 
ones  with  intelligence,  despatch,  and  the  most  painstaking  accuracy. 

Fortunately  for  me,  I  had  early  observed  that  the  easiest  and  surest 
way  for  a  man  of  mediocre  powers  to  rise  in  any  business  or  calling, 
when  he  has  both  fortune  and  position  to  achieve,  is  to  make  himself 
as  indispensable  as  possible  to  others  of  greater  power  or  already- 
acquired  position.  More  fortunately  still,  I  had  never  been  possessed 
with  the  idea  that  I  was  gifted  with  remarkable  qualities.  I  recog 
nized  the  fact  that  very  many  could  accomplish  what  I  could  not.  I 
realized,  also,  that  what  is  sometimes  termed  the  magnetic  quality  was 
almost  entirely  lacking  in  rue.  Very  few  ever  took  a  fancy  to  me  at 
first  sight.  On  the  contrary,  I  had  an  uncomfortable  impression  that  I 
was  rather  antipathetic  to  most  people.  I  was  fortunate  in  only  one 
thing, — an  invincible  determination  to  make  the  most  of  my  ability 
and  opportunity.  If  I  could  not  do  great  things,  I  was  determined  to 

232 


A  DISSOLVING    VIEW.  233 

do  little  ones  as  well  as  the  most  gifted.  If  people  would  not  admire 
me,  I  would  make  them  respect  me;  and  if  they  were  not  inclined  to 
favor  me,  they  should  learn  to  lean  upon  me.  I  had  noticed  that  the 
most  minute  part  in  a  machine  was  very  often  as  important  to  its 
operation  as  the  ponderous  portions  which  transmit  power  or  imme 
diately  produce  results;  and,  having  obtained  a  place  with  Gauge  & 
Swallow  by  mere  force  of  persistence,  I  determined  to  make  myself 
essential  to  the  machine  that  name  represented. 

I  had  succeeded  in  this  design  even  better  than  I  hoped.  I  had 
not  always  been  treated  with  as  much  consideration  as  some  of  my 
associates.  Mr.  Swallow  sometimes  spoke  sharply  and  Mr.  Gauge 
carelessly  to  me,  even  yet.  My  opinions  were  not  always  treated  with 
respect,  my  forensic  efforts  had  been  ridiculed,  and  my  early  attempts 
at  cross-examination  made  the  stock  jests  of  the  office.  After  a  while 
I  found  that  whenever  Mr.  Swallow  was  rude  to  me  Mr.  Gauge  was  apt 
to  be  unusually  kind.  If  I  was  given  less  than  I  could  have  wished  of 
the  showy  work  of  the  office,  I  was  more  than  repaid  by  the  confidence 
displayed  in  my  implicit  observance  of  instructions. 

Not  only  my  employers  but  my  associates  at  the  bar  also  came  to 
rely  upon  my  discretion.  I  did  not  needlessly  speak  of  unpleasant 
things,  and  never  acted  the  tale-bearer  unless  I  brought  pleasant  burdens. 
If  one  of  our  professional  brethren  spoke  ill  of  my  employers  in  my 
presence,  under  the  sting  of  defeat  or  in  the  heat  of  conflict,  I  never 
mentioned  the  matter  to  them.  After  a  while  this  became  known,  and 
I  was  often  thanked  for  having  saved  the  need  of  apology  or  the  prob 
ability  of  discord.  So,  too,  I  never  alluded  in  the  office  to  anything  I 
heard  in  the  consultation-room.  The  result  was  that  the  partners  came 
to  speak  almost  as  unreservedly  in  my  presence  as  if  by  themselves. 
Sometimes,  indeed,  they  seemed  quite  to  overlook  my  presence,  treating 
me  as  parents  do  children  who  but  half  understand  what  is  said  or  are 
bound  by  natural  ties  to  silence  and  discretion. 

In  the  matter  of  compensation  fortune  had  favored  me.  I  had,  either 
actually  or  seemingly,  saved  more  to  the  firm  and  their  clients  than 
any  of  my  fellows,  frequently  securing  by  arrangement  what  would 
have  been  lost  by  litigation ;  while  by  close  attention  to  details  I  had 
often  remedied  the  remissness  of  more  brilliant  associates.  If  my 
briefs  were  not  so  startling  as  those  of  others,  it  was  remarked  that  my 
citations  could  be  relied  on  as  sustaining  the  points  I  made;  and  if  I 
was  not  so  brilliant  an  advocate  as  some,  the  courts  listened  to  me  with 
20* 


234  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

patience,  knowing  I  would  not  trouble  them  with  unnecessary  display. 
My  salary  had  been  increased  from  time  to  time,  always  without  request 
or  intimation  on  my  part,  until  my  monthly  checks  were  of  the  same 
amount  as  Mr.  Barnes's,  who  had  acted  as  chief  clerk  since  Mr.  Bron- 
son's  departure.  Besides  this,  I  was  often  employed  in  the  business  of 
the  firm  at  a  distance,  with  the  intimation  that  I  need  not  itemize  my 
expense-account. 

Because  of  these  things,  I  had  no  personal  apprehension  on  account 
of  any  change  in  the  membership  of  the  firm ;  that  is,  I  had  no  fear 
that  I  would  not  retain  my  place.  At  the  same  time,  I  had  no  expecta 
tion  of  a  better  one.  I  did  not  once  imagine  that  I  was  to  be  the  new 
partner, — though  the  mission  with  which  I  had  just  been  intrusted  was 
one  of  peculiar  responsibility,  all  the  more  so  from  the  relation  Mr. 
Swallow  sustained  to  the  absent  millionaire, — and  I  was  confident 
Mr.  Barnes  would  not  be.  Mr.  Gauge  had  never  quite  liked  the 
chief  clerk,  in  spite  of  the  position  he  held.  Ever  since  the  affair 
with  Bronson,  indeed,  he  had  manifested  a  constant  nervousness, 
amounting  almost  to  espionage,  in  regard  to  the  papers  in  every  case. 
Mr.  Barnes  had  shown  remarkable  ability  and  very  sound  judgment 
in  the  management  of  real  estate.  This  branch  of  our  business  had 
long  been  entirely  under  his  control,  and  had  rapidly  and  steadily  in 
creased  since  coming  into  his  hands.  In  the  matter  of  titles,  mortgages, 
and  the  value  of  real  estate,  he  had  few,  if  any,  superiors  in  the  great 
metropolis.  He  was  a  man  of  wonderful  executive  ability,  having  a 
constitution  of  iron  and  the  happy  faculty  some  people  possess  of  doing 
a  hundred  things  at  a  time  without  seeming  to  be  busy  about  any  of 
them.  When  Mr.  Bronson  left,  he  took  charge  of  the  routine  business 
of  the  office,  through  a  clerk,  still  retaining  the  real  estate  business. 
But  Mr.  Barnes  was  a  clerk,  a  man  of  business  rather  than  a  lawyer, 
and  I  knew  that  the  new  partner,  whoever  he  might  be,  would  be  one 
who  would  at  once  be  recognized  by  the  profession  at  large  as  a  lawyer. 

I  could  not  help  feeling  apprehensive,  as  I  went  back  to  my  desk, 
however,  as  to  whether  the  same  cordial  relation  would  exist  between 
the  newly-constituted  firm  and  myself.  There  had  come  into  my  ser 
vice  not  a  little  of  that  blind  reverence  which  the  young  man  who  is 
brought  into  intimate  relations  with  the  successful  man  of  middle  age 
is  apt  to  accord.  Besides  the  success  and  renown  of  the  firm,  I  had  a 
personal  and  individual  attachment  for  each  of  its  members.  It  is 
true  I  was  only  an  employee :  not  once  had  I  ever  forgotten  that  fact, 


A  DISSOLVING   VIEW.  235 

not  once  had  I  been  permitted  to  forget  it.  Our  worlds  only  touched 
at  the  perimeters,  which  impinged  where  each  ran  through  the  office. 
I  had  been  to  the  houses  of  the  partners  more  than  once,  but  it  was 
rather  in  the  capacity  of  an  errand-boy  than  as  a  guest.  I  had  made 
myself  acquainted  with  the  members  of  their  households,  and  was  so 
far  a  persona  grata  with  their  wives  that  I  had  more  than  once  been 
favored  with  the  office  of  squire  of  dames  when  the  husband  was 
unable  to  respond  to  a  demand  for  his  services  and  a  cavalier  was 
desirable.  Indeed,  I  will  admit  that  I  counted  as  one  of  the  advan 
tages  of  my  position  the  privilege  of  attending  pretty  regularly  the 
Saturday  matinees,  inany  of  which  would  have  been  quite  beyond  my 
means,  even  with  the  increased  compensation  I  received ;  for  I  was 
thriftily  inclined,  and  had  lived  up  to  my  resolution  to  make  up  with 
interest  to  my  mother  the  comforts  she  had  sacrificed  in  my  behalf. 
I  took  not  a  little  pride,  therefore,  in  the  snug  premises  she  occupied 
contentedly,  overlooking  the  little  New  England  town  where  my  coming 
at  the  summer  vacation  was  always  heralded  by  the  local  press  as  the 
"  arrival  of  Mr.  Gerald  Fountain,  Esq.,  the  well-known  New  York 
lawyer,  at  his  elegant  country-seat,  where  he  will  enjoy  a  brief  respite 
from  professional  cares." 

They  did  not  know  that  I  was  only  a  salaried  assistant  in  the  office 
of  Gauge  &,  Swallow,  or,  if  they  did  know,  it  made  no  difference  to 
the  simple  people  of  the  village.  I  was  a  lawyer  all  the  same,  and  the 
glamour  of  the  great  firm's  renown  rested  like  a  halo  about  me.  For  a 
fortnight  each  year,  therefore,  I  was  a  hero.  My  tastes  are  not  rural, 
however,  and  the  chief  enjoyment  I  have  derived  from  my  rustic  invest 
ment  lias  been  the  pride  and  comfort  of  that  excellent  woman  whom  it 
has  lifted  from  a  life  of  penury  and  toil  to  one  of  ease  and  comfort  not 
too  far  removed  from  her  former  surroundings  to  be  enjoyable.  I  do 
not  think  I  have  ever  been  ashamed  of  my  mother :  I  am  sure  I  have 
never  seen  the  time  when  I  would  permit  her  to  see  that  her  ways  are 
not  altogether  enjoyable  to  the  son  whom  she  has  labored  all  her  life 
to  lift  above  her  own  level.  Yet  I  may  as  well  confess  that  she  has 
succeeded  only  too  well  in  her  efforts.  If  I  were  a  man  of  wealth,  able 
to  have  my  carriage  and  things  of  that  sort,  I  would  be  only  too  happy 
to  have  her-  come  and  share  my  good  fortune.  As  it  is,  I  am  afraid 
I  should  not  like  to  be  seen  with  her  upon  my  arm  in  the  streets  of 
New  York.  I  am  ashamed  of  the  fact.  Yet  she  was  not  yet  old  nor 
ill-looking :  she  only  lacked  style.  There  are  some  men  who  would 


236  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

not  mind  such  things.  Jasper  Minton  would  not.  I  cannot  help  wish 
ing  I  were  more  like  him, — so  calm,  brave,  and  unpretentious.  As 
the  recollection  flashes  upon  me,  I  wonder  whether  he  will  not  be  the 
new  partner.  I  cannot  help  wishing  that  he  may  be,  not  so  much  on 
my  own  account  as  for  the  sake  of  Mr.  Burrill,  whose  silvery  head 
shows  above  the  top  of  the  desk  as  I  approach.  lie  is  putting  his 
papers  "  to  rights,'7  as  he  says,  in  view  of  his  journey,  and  his  face  is 
aglow  with  pleasure  at  the  thought  of  visiting  his  native  land. 

Poor  man !  I  dread  to  have  him  know  what  is  in  store  for  him, 
not  so  much  from  any  eifect  the  loss  of  his  interest  in  the  firm  will 
have  on  his  financial  condition  :  he  is  already  very  comfortably  provided, 
— able  to  retire,  indeed,  whenever  he  is  so  minded.  His  interest  would, 
of  course,  be  diminished,  perhaps  entirely  lost.  It  is  not  that.  I  know 
— and  I  alone,  though  I  did  once  hint  it  to  Mr.  Swallow — that  was  six 
months  ago — how  the  old  man's  heart  yearns  for  the  honor  of  an  equal 
acknowledged  partnership.  I  believe  it  would  kill  him ;  but  he  would 
be  willing  to  die  just  to  see  his  name  on  the  door-plate  and  hear  the 
clerk  say,  when  a  case  is  moved  in  court,  "  Gauge,  Swallow  &  Burrill, 
for  the  Plaintiffs." 

I  alone  know  how  he  has  cherished  this  dream  which  his  own 
modesty  has  made  impossible  of  fulfilment.  I  think  one  of  the  chief 
reasons  why  he  bought  the  beautiful  house  which  overlooks  bay  and 
river  and  might  be  the  home  of  a  banker  or  a  stock- speculator  was  in 
order  that  he  might  do  honor  to  the  good  fortune  he  hoped  would  yet 
be  thrust  upon  him  when  finally  it  shall  come. 

I  am  not  ashamed  to  confess  that  I  love  Thomas  Burrill.  He  has 
not  only  been  kind  to  me,  but  he  has  made  me  his  friend,  and,  to  tell 
the  truth,  has  made  me  much  worthier  to  be  his  friend.  No  one  could 
see  as  I  have  for  three  years  the  never-failing  beauty  and  sweet 
kindly  courtesy  of  his  daily  life  without  loving  him.  During  all  that 
time  I  have  been  his  guest  in  the  house  where  the  woman  lived  whom 
I  loved, — nay,  whom  I  still  love.  He  knows  my  secret,  but  never 
alludes  to  it.  What  was  her  studio  is  now  my  study.  Nothing  is 
changed, — only  a  case  or  two  of  books  added.  The  picture  of  Hazzard 
on  the  easel  is  gone,  too,  and  in  its  place  is  a  plainly-framed  charcoal 
sketch  of  myself.  We  found  it  there  when  we  took  possession.  "  A 
fine  picture,"  Burrill  says,  when  he  comes  up  for  an  evening  now  and 
then:  I  know  it  is  merely  a  trifle,  such  as  a  friend  might  do  to  show 
another  that  he  was  not  entirely  forgotten.  The  little  ebony  desk  was 


A  DISSOLVING   VIEW.  237 

there  too :  she  had  left  the  key,  with  a  note  saying  that  I  would  find 
all  her  papers  there,  and  asking  me  to  accept  the  desk  as  a  present.  I 
have  kept  her  papers — the  papers  belonging  to  the  property  I  have  in 
charge — in  it  ever  since,  but  no  others.  If  she  should  return  to-mor 
row,  I  would  only  have  to  give  her  the  key  and  say,  "  Here  is  what 
you  left  in  my  care,"  and  when  she  should  look  them  over  she  would 
find  two  dollars  for  every  one  she  gave  into  my  hands.  I  am  very 
s  proud  of  my  success.  It  is  foolish  to  keep  on  dreaming  as  I  do,  but 
I  cannot  help  it.  I  wonder  if  I  shall  find  her  when  I  go  to  serve  this 
man  Avho  has  cast  her  off.  Perhaps  he  has  not  cast  her  off,  but  has 
become  her  patron, — has  adopted  her  as  his  child.  Somehow,  it  always 
seemed  to  me  as  if  she  loved  him  more  as  a  father — a  friend — than — 
than — otherwise.  Yet  ever  as  I  try  to  think  so,  I  see  her  sweeping 
back  the  velvet  curtain  and  saying,  proudly,  "  I  love  him." 

In  these  years  the  courteous  old  man  and  myself  have  grown  very, 
very  near  to  each  other.  I  have  been  as  a  son  in  a  father's  house.  I 
have  gone  to  the  country  with  him,  and  he  has  attended  church  with 
me.  We  have  been  very  happy, — happier  than  I  ever  hoped  to  be, 
and  in  a  different  way.  I  was  much  more  disturbed  for  his  sake, 
therefore,  than  for  myself  at  the  contemplated  change  in  the  firm.  I 
fear  my  voice  must  have  betrayed  my  anxiety  as  I  gave  him  Mr.  Swal 
low's  message.  I  hardly  knew  whether  I  was  expected  to  return  with 
him  or  not,  but  somehow  felt  that  I  could  not  leave  him  to  face  the 
shock  alone. 

There  was  a  singular  deference — a  most  self-respecting  courteous 
humility — which  always  marked  the  intercourse  of  Mr.  Burrill  with 
the  firm  whom  he  had  served  so  efficiently  during  its  twenty-five  years 
of  existence, — the  firm  which  was  hastening  its  dissolution  that  he 
might  witness  its  demise  !  I  do  not  think  he  ever  contemplated  the 
partners  as  merely  individual  essences.  They  were  always  a  part  of 
Gauge  &  Swallow, — a  name  he  almost  worshipped,  so  intense  was  his 
interest  in  its  success.  The  glory  with  which  he  imbued  this  legal 
entity  rested  like  a  halo  on  the  heads  of  the  partners,  and  he  bowed 
with  loving  reverence  to  it  whenever  he  greeted  them.  Mr.  Gauge  had 
been  his  friend  before  the  partnership  existed,  and  with  him  alone  he 
sometimes  seemed  to  forget  the  firm;  but  when  both  partners  were 
present,  it  mattered  not  how  remote  the  subject  of  conversation  might 
be,  Gauge  &  Swallow  were  ever  before  his  mind's  eye.  Never  did  the 
rare,  sweet  courtesy  of  the  old  servant,  who  was  really  a  most  efficient 


238  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

partner,  show  to  such  good  advantage  as  when  the  silver-haired  old 
gentleman,  with  his  soft,  placid  face  aglow  with  the  excitement  of  the 
proposed  journey,  entered  Mr.  Swallow's  room  and  received  the  greet 
ings  of  the  members  of  the  firm. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you  looking  so  well,  Mr.  Burrill,"  said  Mr.  Gauge, 
with  the  warm  sympathetic  smile  which  so  often  greeted  the  old  clerk. 

"  I  declare, "  said  the  Junior,  heartily,  "  the  very  prospect  of  leav 
ing  us  has  made  you  look  twenty  years  younger." 

"I  did  not  think  I  should  care  to  return,"  said  the  old  man,  pleas 
antly,  "  but  I  am  sure  I  shall  enjoy  it."  He  rubbed  his  soft  palms 
together  appreciatively  as  he  spoke,  and  the  boyish  light  that  filled  his 
eyes  told  how  keen  was  his  anticipation. 

"  No  doubt,"  said  Mr.  Swallow.  "  There  are  some  things  to  be 
talked  over,  and  then  you  and  Mr.  Fountain  will  have  to  arrange  your 
affairs  for  an  indefinite  leave.  There  is  no  telling  when  we  shall  see 
you  again  ;  but  we  hope  you  will  have  a  good  time." 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  said  the  old  man, — "  both  of  you,"  he  added. 
"  I'm  sure  I  shall  often  think  of  you  when  I  am  in  London.  I  shall 
go  to  the  courts, — that  has  always  been  my  idea, — just  go  and  watch 
them,  you  see,  day  after  day,  and  compare  them  with  ours.  Do  you 
know,  1  've  a  notion — it's  queer  for  me  to  say  so,  isn't  it  ? — that,  with 
all  their  gowns  and  wigs,  they  don't  lead  us  any  more?  I've  an  idea 
that  English  law,  like  English  liberty,  has  transferred  its  chief  seat  to 
this  side  the  water.  I  think  we're  leading  them  already,  sirs,  and  are 
going  to  keep  it  up.  It  seems  to  me  that  all  the  new  advances  in  legal 
science  are  coming  from  the  American  bench  and  bar.  Only  think  how 
we  have  extended  and  strengthened  the  common  law  in  every  direc 
tion.  And  Westminster  Hall  has  followed  our  lead, — had  to  follow 
USj — anc[  has  got  over  being  ashamed  to  confess  it.  And  all  in  a  few 
years,  too.  Why,  I  was  a  well-grown  lad  when  I  heard  a  Queen's  counsel 
laughed  at — actually  laughed  at  in  term — for  citing  an  American  de 
cision  in  argument  before  the  Queen's  Bench.  'Excuse  me,'  says  his 
lordship, '  does  the  learned  counsel  cite  the  case  as  authority  ?'  But  the 
fellow  in  silk  gave  it  back  to  him  soundly.  '  I  cite  it,  my  lud,'  said 
he,  l  as  one  of  the  ablest  expositions  of  English  law  to  be  found  in  the 
English  language.'  They  didn't  laugh  after  that.  Well,  you  see, 
I'd  like  to  go  back  and  witness  the  change  with  my  own  eyes  and  ears, 
you  know." 

"  You  will  no  doubt  find  it  interesting,"  said  Mr.  Swallow ;  "  and 


A  DISSOLVING   VIEW.  239 

we  must  get  our  business  out  of  the  way,  so  as  to  give  you  time  for 
your  preparations. 

"  You,  Mr.  Burrill,  will  represent  the  firm  of  Gauge  &  Swallow, 
with  full  power  to  act  for  them.  Besides  this,  you  will  have  a  special 
power  of  attorney  from  me,  authorizing  you  to  act  for  me  as  devisee 
and,  so  far  as  may  be,  as  executor  under  the  will  of  Andrew  Hazzard, 
with  a  copy  of  which  you  will  be  provided.  Mr.  Fountain  will  also 
represent  the  firm,  either  with  you  or  separately,  as  you  may  decide. 
You  will  have  power  to  determine  his  agency  at  any  moment  that 
you  may  see  fit.  In  other  words,  you  will  be  authorized  to  discharge 
him  at  any  time,  giving  him  our  check  for  any  sum  that  may  be 
due." 

You  may  imagine  that  this  talk  of  dismissing  me  from  the  service 
of  the  firm  gave  me  not  a  little  unpleasant  surprise.  As  it  happened, 
Mr.  Burrill  was  never  called  upon  to  exercise  this  power ;  but  the  fact 
that  Mr.  Swallow  mentioned  it  shows  how  wonderful  a  lawyer's  pre 
vision  becomes  by  constant  practice  in  providing  for  possible  contin 
gencies. 

"  There  is  another  thing  I  wish  to  speak  about,"  said  Mr.  Swallow. 
"  Before  you  return  there  would  probably  have  to  be  a  change  in  the 
name  of  the  firm.  I  shall  of  course  retire  in  case  of  Mr.  Hazzard's 
death,  and,  besides  that,  the  business  is  getting  rather  too  large  for  two 
of  us  to  manage  now.  So  we  have  been  thinking  of  anticipating  this 
necessity  by  taking  in  a  new  member.  What  do  you  think  of  it?" 

"  You  know  it  is  just  what  I  have  advised,"  said  the  old  man,  with 
hearty  approval. 

"  Very  true,"  said  Mr.  Swallow,  "  but  we  did  not  know  just  how — 
how  you  would  choose  to  have  your  own  relation  defined." 

"  I  hope,  gentlemen,"  said  the  old  clerk,  rising  to  his  feet  and 
speaking  very  hurriedly,  "  that  you  will  allow  me  to  relieve  you  from 
all  embarrassment  on  that  subject.  You  have  already  been  kinder  to 
me  than  I  have  deserved,  and — I  have  enough  ;  I  am  only  a  tax  on  the 
firm  now " 

"  But  we  do  not  think  so,"  said  Mr.  Swallow,  earnestly.  "  Only 
Mr.  Gauge  and  myself  know  what  the  firm  owes  to  you,  Mr.  Burrill, 
and  while  the  business  remains  your  interest  in  it  will  not  be  lessened  a 
single  farthing.  We  only  wanted  to  know  if  you  would  have  any 
objection  to  its  being  placed  in  a  slightly  different  form." 

"  Oh,  certainly  not,  gentlemen,  certainly  not,"  said  the  dear  old  man, 


210  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

the  tears  running  down  his  cheeks  as  he  spoke.  "Anything  that  is 
for  the  interest  of  Gauge  &  Swallow,  gentlemen,  is  satisfactory  to  me.'7 

"  If  you  will  kindly  sign  this  power  of  attorney,  then,  authorizing 
Mr.  Gauge  to  act  for  you  in  the  matter.'' 

"  Of  course,  of  course,"  responded  the  old  man,  searching  for  his 
glasses,  and  finally  signing  his  name  in  a  more  shaky  and  uncertain 
style  than  I  had  ever  known  him  to  do  before. 

I  signed  as  a  witness,  and  we  were  about  to  leave  the  room,  when 
Mr.  Swallow  said,  carelessly, — I  was  surprised  at  the  fact  that  Mr. 
Gauge  had  sat  a  silent  and  evidently  embarrassed  listener  to  this  con 
versation  thus  far, — 

"  Oh,  one  thing  more,  Mr.  Burrill.  We  are  going  to  give  our  new 
'  Junior7  a  little  spread  to-night  at  Delmonico's, — a  very  informal  affair, 
just  the  office  force  and  a  few  special  friends.  "We  had  intended  to 
defer  it  until  the  close  of  the  year,  but  have  decided  to  have  it  now 
because  of  your  speedy  departure.  Such  a  thing  would  lose  its  charm 
without  the  presence  of  the  oldest  and  truest  friend  that  Gauge  & 
Swallow  ever  had.  You  and  Mr.  Fountain  must  on  no  account  allow 
your  preparations  to  interfere  with  your  coming  early.  Remember, 
eight  o'clock  sharp,  at  the  up-town  Delmonico's." 

The  old  man  seemed  staggered  by  the  unconscious  cruelty  of  this 
proposition.  He  could  not  trust  himself  to  speak,  but  sank  into  a 
chair,  shaking  his  head  from  side  to  side,  a  pathetic  picture  of  mute  and 
helpless  grief.  Mr.  Gauge  added  his  solicitations,  however,  and  after  a 
time  the  old  gentleman,  seeing  how  utterly  unconscious  they  were  of 
the  hurt  they  were  giving  him,  yielded  a  trembling,  almost  tearful, 
assent. 

It  was  with  a  sad  heart  that  I  accompanied  Mr.  Burrill  to  pur 
beautiful  home.  For  once,  as  we  entered  its  portal  I  forgot  to  think 
of  her  who  had  dwelt  there.  I  tried  to  speak  a  word  of  consolation 
which  I  had  not  dared  to  venture  on  the  street,  but  he  turned  away, 
wringing  my  hand  to  show  that  he  understood  my  meaning,  only 
saying,  with  a  choked  voice, — 

"  It  wasn't  to  be,  my  son ;  and  yet — it  was  the  only  ambition  I 
ever  had.  If  it  was  to  be  Jasper  Minton  I  don't  think  I  would 
mind  it  so  much." 

He  evidently  wished  to  find  out  who  the  new-comer  was  to  be.  I 
could  not  tell  him ;  and,  besides,  I  was  jealous  of  Mr.  Minton.  Why 


A   DISSOLVING   VIEW.  241 

should  lie  come  between  me  and  my  one  friend  ?      So  I  answered 
nothing. 

If  ever  a  perfect  gentleman  entered  the  famous  restaurant,  it  was 
the  white-haired,  fair-faced  old  man  with  the  bit  of  snowy  whisker, 
who  went  up  the  marble  steps  that  night  clad  in  an  irreproachable 
suit  having  just  the  slightest  possible  flavor  of  old  fashions, — a  flavor 
unmistakable,  yet  hard  to  define,  if  one  passed  by  the  snowy  ruffled 
shirt-front  which  the  guileless  face  showed  to  be  no  purer  than  the 
bosom  it  covered. 

Mr.  Gauge  and  Mr.  Swallow  met  us  as  we  stepped  out  of  the 
elevator, — or  rather,  I  should  say,  met  Mr.  Burrill ;  for  it  was  one  of 
the  ghostly  attendants  of  this  bacchanal  shrine,  who  looked  as  if  the 
sight  of  others' joys  had  transformed  him  into  an  animated  substitute 
for  the  Egyptian  reminder  of  mortality,  that  took  me  in  charge,  while 
my  companion  was  led  away  by  the  partners,  one  on  either  side. 

I  joined  the  other  guests, — gentlemen  from  the  office,  one  or  two 
judges,  and  quite  a  gathering  of  notables  of  the  bar,  young  and  old. 
Which  of  these  was  to  be  the  new  partner?  This  I  could  see  was  the 
question  each  was  asking  himself  as  every  new-comer  appeared.  When 
the  doors  were  opened  and  we  entered  the  dining-room,  Mr.  Gauge 
escorted  Mr.  Burrill  to  the  place  of  honor,  seating  himself  upon  the  old 
man's  right,  while  a  distinguished  judge  sat  upon  his  left.  Near  them 
were  grouped  judges  and  dignitaries  around  the  table,  which  was  shaped 
like  a  horseshoe.  The  clerks  of  Gauge  &  Swallow  were  sandwiched  in 
here  and  there  with  the  other  guests.  At  the  very  end  of  one  of  the 
prongs  of  the  shoe  sat  Mr.  Swallow,  and,  greatly  to  my  delight,  I  found 
myself  placed  at  his  left. 

We  all  greeted  the  flushed  but  courteous  old  clerk  with  a  round  of 
applause  as  Mr.  Gauge  handed  him  to  his  place,  to  which  he  responded 
with  a  bow  which  would  have  done  honor  to  a  Chesterfield  in  its  per 
fect  and  unstudied  grace.  There  was  a  vacant  place  at  the  foot  of  the 
table, — the  other  prong  of  the  shoe, — towards  which  I  noticed  that  Mr. 
Swallow  glanced  uneasily  as  the  dinner  progressed.  At  length  a  card 
was  brought  to  him  by  one  of  the  servitors,  and  he  stole  out,  taking 
care  not  to  disturb  the  quiet  chat  that  was  beginning  to  spread  around 
the  table  as  the  company  on  either  side  gradually  crystallized  into  groups 
of  two  or  three,  who  with  heads  inclined  towards  each  other  were  en 
livening  the  feast  with  that  congenial  intercourse  which  marks  small 
companies  of  cultured  men. 

21  L 


242  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

To  ray  mind  such  festive  gatherings  of  the  bar  are  the  most 
entertaining  of  all  social  groupings.  No  other  profession  unites  in  so 
marked  a  degree  individuality  and  adaptedness  or  combines  so  wide  a 
knowledge  of  things  with  so  broad  an  experience  of  men.  In  no  other 
professional  assemblage  is  there  to  be  found  such  a  universal  absence  of 
unpleasant  personality.  At  the  festal  board  the  lawyer  is  never  arro 
gant,  boastful,  or  inclined  to  monopolize  attention.  Softly-modulated, 
or  hearty,  cheerful,  unobtrusive  tones  prevail.  I  have  been  a  student 
of  man  as  a  diner  rather  than  as  a  gourmet  or  mere  consumer,  and  have 
seen  many  professions  as  well  as  many  gatherings  at  the  social  board. 
Making  due  allowance  for  professional  bias,  I  must  maintain  that,  in 
America  at  least,  the  bar  affords  by  far  the  most  charming  and  refined 
social  groupings  that  can  be  found.  The  divine  is  apt  to  be  assertive 
or  competitive  in  company  with  his  brethren.  The  prevailing  lion  is 
often  inclined  to  monopolize  the  conversation  or  remain  stubbornly 
silent.  Each  man  sees  in  his  neighbor  a  rival  for  public  favor,  to  be 
feared  or  despised.  The  medical  man  is  usually  combative  or  discur 
sive  in  professional  gatherings.  He  treats  his  neighbor  either  as  an 
opponent  or  as  a  patient.  There  is  more  individuality  in  the  medical 
profession  than  in  any  other,  and  more  effort  to  please  or  convince  their 
neighbors  on  either  hand,  on  such  occasions.  Intellectually  they  are 
keener,  brighter,  more  alert,  than  any  other  profession.  A  man  feels, 
after  having  attended  a  festal  gathering  of  physicians,  as  a  Damascus 
blade  looks  after  passing  through  the  armorer's  hands. 

But  for  quiet,  harmonious  congeniality  there  is  nothing  like  a  festal 
gathering  of  the  bar.  There  is  no  chance  for  rivalry  ;  mouthiness 
would  make  its  victim  a  veritable  St.  Sebastian,  stuck  full  of  poisoned 
arrows  of  relentless  wit,  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour.  No  lawyer  can  be  a 
lion  with  his  brethren,  and  no  one  is  better  aware  of  it  than  he.  Each 
one  at  the  board  knows  his  weak  points  and  has  discounted  his  strong 
ones.  Each,  if  inclined  to  boast,  knows  he  is  surrounded  by  snares 
which  no  skill  could  evade.  The  dullest  practitioner  is  sure  to  know 
something  of  which  the  wisest  judge  is  ignorant.  Because  of  these 
things  the  lawyer  in  social  intercourse  with  his  brethren  of  the  bar  is 
modest,  deferential,  courteous,  genial.  From  end  to  end  of  the  ban 
quet-board  rises  and  falls  the  low  murmur  of  cheerful  conversation 
interspersed  with  ripples  of  laughter  and  punctuated  with  smiling  alert 
faces  and  gleaming  anticipative  glances.  If  a  man  is  fond  of  stale 
"chestnuts,"  let  him  cultivate  the  professional  diner-out ;  if  he  loves 


A  DISSOLVING   VIEW.  243 

to  witness  skilful  "grilling/'  let  him  dine  with  journalists;  if  he  wants 
to  be  talked  to  death,  let  him  dine  with  politicians  ;  if  he  loves  a  dinner 
"  administered  on  business  principles,"  let  him  dine  with  business-men  ; 
if  he  appreciates  the  recurrent  extremes  of  heat  and  cold,  let  him  dine 
with  ministers ;  if  he  wishes  to  leave  the  feast  wearied  with  the  effort 
to  appreciate  its  varied  display  of  mental  wounds  and  weapons,  let  him 
dine  with  physicians  ;  but  if  he  seeks  the  genial  flow  of  mingled  mirth 
and  wisdom  which  is  now  a  calm  and  placid  pool,  now  a  dimpling 
current,  now  a  flashing  rapid,  but  never  turbulent,  exhausting,  or  dull, 
— then  let  him  dine  with  lawyers. 

After  a  few  moments  Mr.  Swallow  returned.  He  had  almost 
reached  the  vacant  seat  to  which  he  was  ushering  the  belated  guest 
before  any  one  noted  who  the  new-comer  was.  Then,  as  if  by  instinct, 
all  eyes  were  turned  upon  the  scarred  but  placid  face  and  erect  and 
supple  form  of  Jasper  Minton.  There  was  an  instant  pause,  and  every 
one  seemed  to  divine  that  this  was  the  new  partner  we  were  called  upon 
to  welcome.  His  individuality  appeared  to  impress  every  one  as  the 
very  thing  that  was  required  to  round  out  and  complete  the  efficiency 
of  the  great  firm.  I  think  Mr.  Burrill  saw  him  first,  and  gave  the 
signal  for  the  hearty  round  of  applause  that  burst  out  as  he  bowed 
himself  into  the  seat  reserved  for  him. 

Usually  a  belated  guest  is  a  nuisance ;  but  when  it  was  whispered 
about  the  board  that  this  one  had  come  on  the  "  Chicago  Limited,"  had 
made  his  toilet  on  the  train  and  was  in  his  seat  twenty-three  minutes 
after  its  arrival  at  Jersey  City,  many  an  admiring  glance  was  cast  on 
the  quiet,  impassive  man  who  overcame  obstacles  without  "  fuss"  and 
"  got  there"  as  a  matter  of  course.  After  this  incident  the  mirth  flowed 
on  a  little  more  boisterously  until  the  coffee  was  brought  on  and  the 
cigars  were  lighted.  Then  Mr.  Swallow  rose,  and,  tapping  lightly  on 
the  table,  became  at  once  the  centre  of  all  eyes.  He  said  it  was  not 
quite  in  order  for  the  foot  of  the  table  to  take  the  lead,  but,  while  he 
had  been  a  "  Junior"  all  his  life,  his  "  Senior"  had  been  of  that  prudent 
kind  who  always  put  him  on  the  skirmish-line.  He  was  accustomed, 
therefore,  to  opening  the  battle.  He  had  persuaded  his  associate,  his 
revered  and  well-beloved  "  Senior,"  he  said,  to  take  a  new  partner,  in 
order  that  he  himself  might  escape  being  any  longer  a  "  Junior"  and  be 
allowed  to  take  on  a  little  dignity  with  the  advent  of  gray  hairs.  As  j 
the  change  in  the  firm  was  a  favor  due  him,  it  was  proper  that  he  should  1 
thank  the  friends  present  for  coming  together  to  witness  his  transforma- 


241  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

tion  and  share  his  delight  in  getting  out  of  the  lowest  form.  He  was 
so  engrossed,  he  declared,  with  his  own  good  fortune  that  he  would 
leave  to  his  "Senior"  the  pleasant  task  of  introducing  to  them  the 
lucky  fellow  who  was  henceforth  to  share  the  glory  and  profits  of  the 
new  firm. 

Nothing  could  exceed  the  delicacy  and  tact  of  the  great  advocate 
in  thus  avoiding  all  display,  skilfully  withdrawing  himself  behind  a 
playful  allusion  to  the  position  he  had  so  long  occupied  and  bringing 
to  the  front  the  grave,  kindly,  but  not  often  brilliant  man  who  was  the 
head  of  the  firm. 

A  hearty  cheer  greeted  Mr.  Gauge  as  he  rose.  For  a  few  moments 
it  seemed  as  if  his  speech  was  to  be  of  the  most  commonplace  character. 
Gradually  he  warmed  to  his  task,  and  in  simple,  manly,  and  tender 
words  told  the  story  of  the  partnership  which  had  been  dissolved  that 
day  in  order  that  another  might  be  formed.  He  said  there  had  never 
been  any  dissent  or  dissatisfaction  between  the  partners,  never  any 
serious  difference  of  opinion,  and  never  any  quarrel  which  the  evening 
hand-shake  did  not  dissipate.  In  the  firm,  as  in  the  profession,  there 
had  been  neither  "  Senior"  nor  "  Junior,"  save  the  undying  youthfulness 
which  genius  had  conferred  upon  the  distinguished  associate  whose 
co-operation  had  not  only  lightened  his  labors,  but  whose  companion 
ship  had  brightened  his  advancing  years. 

There  was  a  moisture  in  Mr.  Swallow's  eyes  as  the  cheers  burst  out 
in  response  to  this  graceful  compliment. 

Then  the  Senior,  whose  fine  face  was  aglow  with  generous  sentiment, 
turned  to  those  who  had  served  them,  and  recounted  with  justifiable 
pride  the  success  of  many  who  had  gone  forth  from  the  firm,  and  paid 
a  warm  tribute  to  the  devotion  of  those  who  remained.  Then  he  spoke 
of  one  who  was  the  first  to  engage  in  their  service  and  the  last  to  leave 
it, — to  whom  in  the  opinion  of  both  the  partners,  and  he  doubted  not 
in  the  opinion  of  their  brethren  of  the  bench  and  bar,  the  success  of 
the  firm  had  been  quite  as  much  due  as  to  the  efforts  of  either  of  the 
partners. 

Every  one  knew  to  whom  these  remarks  referred,  and  Mr.  Burrill's 
face  flushed  at  first  with  pleasurable  excitement,  then  grew  pale  as  he 
realized  the  heartiness  and  sincerity  of  the  compliment  which  was 
being  thus  publicly  paid  him  by  the  man  he  had  loved  as  well  as  served 
so  Jong. 

This  man,  Mr.  Gauge  continued,  had  that  day  withdrawn  from  a 


A  DISSOLVING   VIEW.  215 

service  they  had  often  urged  him  to  abandon  that  they  might  have  the 
honor  of  adding  his  name  to  theirs  in  the  caption  of  the  firm.  Never, 
until  he  found  that  a  reorganization  of  the  business  was  inevitable, 
would  he  give  up  the  nominally  subordinate  but  really  central  position 
he  had  occupied  in  the  firm  of  Gauge  &  Swallow.  It  was  to  do  honor 
to  this  faithful  servant,  even  more  than  to  welcome  the  new  partner, 
that  their  friends  had  been  invited  to  meet  with  them  on  this  occasion. 
Before  he  concluded  his  remarks,  he  said,  he  should  ask  leave  to  pro 
pose  the  health  of  this  man,  known  to  them  all  as  of  exceptional 
modesty  and  worth,  who  for  the  first  time  in  thirty  years  had  asked  a 
vacation  in  order  that  he  might  revisit  his  native  country,  whither  he 
would  carry  the  warm  wishes  of  every  one,  lawyer  and  layman,  who 
had  known  him  in  the  land  of  his  adoption. 

As  for  the  new  partner,  he  was  almost  ashamed  to  confess  that  for 
the  first  time  in  the  history  of  the  firm  it  had  been  compelled  to  stoop 
to  deception — almost  to  tergiversation — to  secure  an  associate.  He 
would  therefore  leave  that  gentleman  to  speak  for  himself. 

"And  now,  gentlemen,"  said  he,  lifting  his  glass,  while  every  one 
rose  and  did  likewise,  "  I  propose  the  health  of  Thomas  Burrill,  At 
torney  and  Counsellor,  an  ornament  of  the  bar  whose  honors  he  has 
modestly  shunned,  a  lawyer  whom  we  proudly  challenge  the  home  of 
the  common  law  to  outrival  in  varied  and  accurate  attainment,  sound 
judgment,  and  unconscious  merit." 

The  judge  who  sat  upon  the  left  of  Mr.  Burrill  proposed  three 
cheers.  The  glasses  were  drained  with  uproarious  glee ;  for  the  dear 
old  man  had  won  the  hearts  of  all  by  the  modesty  and  kindliness  of 
his  life.  As  he  rose  to  return  thanks,  I  saw  Mr.  Swallow  give  a  signal, 
and  on  a  glass  plate  above  the  old  man's  chair,  which  had  hitherto 
showed  only  a  border  of  electric  lights,  flashed  out  a  thousand  fiery 
points  composing  the  device  we  all  read  wonderingly  enough  : 

"Gauge,  Swallow  &  Burrill." 

Fora  moment  all  were  silent  with  surprise.  Then  the  cheers  broke 
out  as  if  the  company  had  gone  wild.  Burrill  stood  looking  in  amaze 
ment  at  this  explosion  of  delight,  which  he  dimly  comprehended  must 
have  some  cause  beyond  what  was  apparent  to  him.  Following  the 
direction  of  every  eye  and  every  uplifted  finger,  he  beheld  the  sparkling 
device,  and  after  a  moment  apprehended  its  full  import.  Then  he  turned 
to  Mr.  Gauge  with  a  pathetically  reproachful  look,  gazed  a  moment  at 
21* 


24G  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

the  now  silent  company  beseechingly,  and,  sinking  to  his  chair,  buried 
his  face  in  his  hands. 

I  hardly  know  what  happened  next.  I  remember  seeing,  through 
my  tears,  Mr.  Gauge  holding  one  of  the  new  partner's  hands  while  Mr. 
Swallow  shook  the  other.  There  was  a  flutter  of  white  handkerchiefs 
about  the  board, — at  least  I  suppose  they  were  handkerchiefs;  though, 
to  my  infinite  confusion,  I  found  afterwards  that  I  had  been  industri 
ously  mopping  my  eyes  with  a  napkin.  It  seems  a  silly  thing,  but  I  do 
not  think  I  ever  saw  as  general  and  spontaneous  an  overflow  of  feeling 
as  among  that  company  of  hard-headed  and  ambitious  men,  most  of 
whom  had  won  honors  in  a  profession  usually  charged  with  little  enough 
of  sympathy  for  others'  joys  and  woes.  We  youngsters  were  not  a  whit 
ahead  of  the  old  fellows  in  this  display  of  unprofessional  tender 
heartedness. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  a  firm,  clear  voice  at  the  lower  end  of  the  table. 
I  knew  who  it  was — who  it  must  be — before  I  had  a  chance  to  follow 
the  general  direction  of  the  glistening  eyes  of  those  who  stood  opposite. 
Who  but  Minton  would  have  anything  to  say  and  know  just  what  to 
say  at  such  a  moment?  I  was  angry  that  he  should  be  the  first  one  to 
greet  the  man  whom  I  loved,  with  sensible  remark  in  his  new  relation. 
There  are  some  people  who  seem  always  to  have  the  good  fortune  to  be 
in  the  right  place,  do  the  right  thing,  and  say  exactly  the  right  word, 
at  just  the  right  time.  Jasper  Minton  was  that  sort  of  a  man.  I  am 
not.  I  was  sure  he  did  not  love  the  old  man  as  well  as  I.  How  should 
he?  Had  he  not  loved  ones  of  his  own? 

"  Gentlemen,"  he  repeated,  in  a  voice  as  firm  and  clear  as  if  he  had 
never  dreamed  of  shedding  a  tear,  though  there  was  a  heartiness 
about  it  that  made  every  one  feel  that  what  he  was  about  to  utter 
would  be  a  just  and  tender  tribute  to  the  man  whom  all  loved  but  none 
envied, — "  Gentlemen,  I  propose  the  health  of  the  new  member  of  the 
old  firm, — the  '  Junior'  who  outranks  in  age  both  his  l  Seniors,' — the 
only  man  who  was  ever  known  to  be  a  silent  partner  in  a  legal  firm." 

Then  the  glasses  went  up,  and  the  clamor  began  again.  Every 
body  shook  hands  with  Mr.  Burrill,  and  then  with  Mr.  Gauge  and 
Mr.  Swallow,  and  finally  with  each  other.  As  we  resumed  our  places 
at  the  table  a  little  knot  remained  about  Mr.  Burrill.  Mr.  Gauge, 
Mr.  Swallow,  and  the  new  partner  were  evidently  engaged  in  an 
earnest  controversy.  Mr.  Minton  stood  by,  occasionally  assenting  to 


A  DISSOLVING   VIEW.  247 

what  was  said.  Then  they  all  shook  hands  with  Mr.  Minton.  What  did 
it  mean  ? 

Mr.  Mintou  sauntered  back  to  his  place,  and  Mr.  Swallow  quietly 
stated  that  the  new  firm  were  happy  to  announce  that  Mr.  Jasper 
Minton,  formerly  with  Gauge  &  Swallow,  had  consented  to  form  a 
connection  with  them  and  would  hereafter  have  the  responsible  direc 
tion  and  control  of  the  office.  I  was  looking  at  Mr.  Barnes  when  this 
announcement  was  made,  and  was  at  a  loss  to  understand  the  pallor 
which  suddenly  overspread  his  countenance.  Nothing  more  of  any 
moment  happened.  There  were  speeches,  songs,  and  all  the  usual  jolli 
fication  of  such  an  occasion,  and  it  was  at  a  very  late  hour  that  the  com 
pany  separated.  Mr.  Burrill  and  myself  slept  at  a  hotel  that  night,  or 
the  small  portion  of  the  night  that  remained,  having  ordered  our  luggage 
aboard  the  steamer,  which  was  to  sail  early  the  next  day. 

A  considerable  company  came  to  see  us  off,  and  when  we  swung  out 
into  the  stream  almost  the  whole  force  of  the  office  was  on  the  pier, 
waving  us  adieu. 

Mr.  Burrill  was  standing  by  the  rail,  calling  them  by  name,  though 
he  well  knew  that  they  could  not  hear  him  above  the  noise  of  the  engine 
and  the  wheels  as  he  bade  good-by  to  each. 

"  Why,  where  is  Mr.  Barnes  ?"  he  suddenly  asked.  "  He  is  not 
with  them." 

It  was  only  a  moment  since  we  had  shaken  hands  with  him.  I  had 
been  watching  the  people  as  they  went  down  the  gangway,  and  it  flashed 
upon  me  that  I  had  not  seen  him  among  them.  I  have  a  singular 
fancy  for  watching  crowds  and  picking  out  those  whom  I  recognize  or 
think  I  recognize.  I  was  sure  he  was  not  among  those  who  had  left 
the  steamer.  Taking  my  glass,  I  scanned  once  more  the  group  upon 
the  pier.  He  was  not  with  them.  At  once  I  recalled  the  look  upon 
his  face  when  he  heard  of  Mr.  Minton's  return,  and  for  the  first  time 
in  my  life  a  suspicion  of  our  chief  clerk  crossed  my  mind.  I  had 
suffered  so  severely  by  over-confidence  in  Mr.  Bronson  that  I  determined 
to  be  on  my  guard  this  time.  It  was  impossible  to  get  a  list  of  the 
passengers  so  soon,  and  I  had  to  content  myself  with  sending  back 
by  the  pilot  a  note  to  Mr.  Gauge  suggesting  an  immediate  examina 
tion  of  Mr.  Barnes's  accounts,  as  would  be  natural  on  Mr.  Minton's 
taking  charge,  giving  as  a  reason  that  a  circumstance  trivial  in 
itself  and  which  might  be  without  significance  had  awakened  my 
suspicions. 


248  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

The  fancy  that  Mr.  Barnes  was  on  board  grew  upon  me  from  day 
to  day,  though  I  had  nothing  to  justify  the  suspicion.  I  took  occasion 
to  go  through  the  steerage,  but  found  no  familiar  face.  When  we  reached 
the  other  side  and  the  pilot  came  aboard  with  the  late  papers,  I  was  not 
surprised  to  hear  Mr.  Burrill,  who  was  looking  over  the  London  dailies 
with  that  curious  eagerness  a  man  exhibits  who  is  returning  after  a  long 
absence  to  his  native  land,  utter  an  exclamation  of  horrified  surprise. 
Going  to  his  side,  he  pointed  me  to  the  caption,  "  A  Trusted  Clerk 
makes  off  with  a  Quarter  of  a  Million  of  his  Employers'  Funds  I" 

Then  followed  a  statement  that  the  confidential  clerk  of  the  great 
law-firm  of  Gauge  &  Swallow  had  for  a  long  time  been  engaged  in 
a  series  of  peculations  by  means  of  forged  certificates  of  registration 
of  mortgages,  whereby  he  had  robbed  the  firm  of  amounts  aggregating 
more  than  a  quarter  of  a  million  dollars.  The  defaulter  was  "supposed 
to  have  fled  to  Canada.  As  soon  as  I  could  get  him  to  our  state-room, 
I  informed  Burrill  of  my  suspicions.  As  a  result,  the  captain  sent  a 
message  to  the  police  before  we  drew  up  to  the  dock,  and  officers  were 
on  hand  to  arrest  the  fugitive.  He  was  fairly  well  disguised,  but  it 
was  no  difficult  matter  when  the  second-cabin  passengers  were  going  up 
the  ladder  to  identify  my  fellow-clerk.  I  found  a  cable  despatch  at 
Liverpool  urging  me  to  make  all  haste  to  reach  a  small  town  in 
Southern  France,  and  Mr.  Burrill  one  informing  him  of  the  defalcation 
and  assuring  him  that  it  would  not  at  all  affect  the  credit  of  the  firm. 

"Of  course  it  will  not/'  said  the  old  man,  who  was  utterly  broken 
up  by  the  blow  his  idol  had  received.  u  Why  should  it?  It's  only  a 
couple  of  years'  earnings  at  the  most.  But  it  is  not  the  credit  of  a 
legal  firm  that  is  the  important  thing:  it  is  its  standing, — its  trust 
worthiness  as  a  legal  adviser.  It  is  the  disgrace  of  this  thing,  don't 
you  see?  How  can  I  go  up  to  London  to  be  pointed  at  and  wondered 
at  as  one  of  the  American  barristers  who  let  their  clerk  run  away  with 
a  mint  of  money  ?  I  can't  do  it.  It  takes  all  the  enjoyment  out  of  the 
trip.  No,  I  am  going  right  back  just  as  soon  as  I  can  get  leave  to 
take  the  rascal  with  me. 

"  What  did  they  publish  it  for  ?  I'd  have  kept  still  and  given  the 
rascal  a  ten-pun'  note  not  to  tell  on  himself.  We  came  very  near 
getting  burnt  once  before,  you  remember,  but  we  were  lucky  enough  not 
to  have  it  get  out  then.  Only  think  of  it ! — Gauge  &  Swallow, — to  say 
nothing  of  the  new  name, — not  only  the  most  honorable  but  the  most 
shrewd,  sagacious,  and  alert  of  practitioners, — to  be  taken  in  in  this  shock- 


A  DISSOLVING   VIEW.  249 

ing  manner  !  It  all  comes  of  trying  to  make  a  corner  in  brains,  my  son. 
It's  all  right  for  a  business  firm  to  have  a  legal  partner.  I  wonder  that 
more  of  them  don't.  It  would  be  the  soundest  kind  of  policy,  especially 
over  there  where  the  professional  lines  are  not  drawn  so  strictly,  to  take 
a  man  in  and  give  him  a  share  of  the  business  to  look  after  its  legal 
interests  and  relations  and  do  its  legal  business.  But  for  a  law-firm  to  go 
into  the  general  agency  and  commission  business,  to  act  as  brokers  and  in 
vestors,  collectors  and  business  advisers,  is  to  make  the  profession  a  hodge 
podge  without  merit  or  distinction.  It  is  ruining  the  profession  and 
bringing  it  into  disrepute.  Gauge  &  Swallow  are  great  lawyers,  both 
of  them,  but  they  weren't  trained  in  any  such  school  as  the  office  they 
have  tried  to  run.  They  can  make  a  hundred  thousand  dollars  a  year 
honestly  in  the  law,  but  they  have  tried  to  make  as  much  more  by  doing 
business  for  others,  instead  of  leaving  their  clients  to  do  their  own  busi 
ness,  run  their  own  risks,  and  get  into  their  own  difficulties.  It  don't 
do  for  a  lawyer  to  try  and  be  a  general  business  agent  and  an  adviser 
for  others  at  the  same  time.  If  the  shoemaker  should  stick  to  his  last, 
the  lawyer  should  by  all  means  stick  to  his  law.  Brains  are  individual 
possessions.  Men  who  have  them  may  unite  to  aid  each  other  with 
advantage,  where  they  have  a  common  interest;  but  what  is  called  a 
great  legal  firm, — that  is,  one  or  two  men  with  big  brains  and  wide 
knowledge  and  experience  in  the  law,  with  a  score  or  two  of  hirelings, 
clerks  and  agents  and  salaried  representatives, — such  a  firm  will  always 
be  an  injury  to  the  profession,  an  illusion  and  a  snare.  A  lawyer  ceases 
to  be  a  sound  adviser  when  he  becomes  the  business  agent  of  his  client 
and  assumes  responsibilities  for  the  acts  he  advises.  I  am  going  back 
to  see  if  I  cannot  induce  Gauge  &  Swallow  to  do  an  exclusive  legal 
business  or  else  drop  the  law  and  open  a  broker's  office.  It  don't  do  to 
mix  the  two.  Besides  that,  such  scandals  as  this  bring  the  profession 
into  disrepute.  Nobody  thinks  it  strange  when  a  lawyer  makes  a  failure 
in  speculation  or  invests  money  in  a  losing  business.  People  say  that 
is  to  be  expected  ;  he  is  investing  where  he  cannot  give  his  attention. 
But  when  a  lawyer  is  overreached,  cheated,  robbed  by  one  of  his  own 
employees  in  his  own  office,  part  of  his  own  machine, — you  see  it 
impairs  confidence  in  the  common  sense,  shrewdness,  and  capacity  of  a 
class  whose  legitimate  success  depends  on  popular  belief  in  their  posses 
sion  of  these  very  qualities.  Such  things  are  almost  as  bad  for  the  law 
as  it  is  for  religion  to  have  a  minister  go  wrong." 

There  was  no  lack  of  truth  in  the  old  man's  philosophy,  though  it 

L* 


250  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

was  born  of  chagrin.  So  he  stayed  to  look  after  the  extradition  of  our 
unexpected  capture,  while  I  pushed  on  to  my  destination. 

"  It  was  lucky  Mr.  Swallow  had  his  '  impression '  that  I  ought  to 
come  with  you,  wasn't  it  ?"  said  the  old  man,  as  he  bade  me  good-by  at 
the  station. 

Four  days  afterwards,  I  cabled  Gauge  &  Swallow  that  I  had  left 
their  service.  Mr.  Burrill  arrived  in  New  York  on  the  returning 
steamer  with  the  defaulter,  who  made  partial  restitution  but  was  bound 
over  for  trial.  The  proceedings  dragged  mysteriously.  He  was  finally 
released  on  bail,  and  after  the  matter  was  thought  to  have  been  for 
gotten  it  was  casually  reported  by  the  press  that  the  proceedings  against 
him  had  been  discontinued.  The  examination  showed  a  great  many 
important  papers  which  should  have  been  in  the  care  of  Gauge  & 
Swallow  to  be  missing.  The  resulting  damage  was  not  easy  to  be 
measured,  and  the  cunning  thief  boldly  demanded  exemption  from 
punishment  as  the  price  of  their  restoration.  People  wondered  at  the 
lenity  displayed.  What  would  have  been  thought  if  they  had  known 
that  the  very  magnitude  and  boldness  of  his  transactions  had  secured 
him  not  only  immunity  from  punishment  but  the  enjoyment  of  a  com 
fortable  fortune?  He  soon  became  famous  on  "the  street,"  and  will 
probably  some  day  become  one  of  the  most  potent  magnates  of  finance. 
We  hear  a  good  deal  in  fiction  and  philosophy  about  the  policy  of 
honesty,  which  is  always  highly  commended  by  those  who  know  noth 
ing  of  life  or  find  it  profitable  to  flatter.  It  is  only  the  lawyer  who 
really  comprehends  the  profit  there  is  in  knavery,  and  knows  what  a 
shrinkage  of  values  there  would  be  among  the  "solid"  men  of  the  city 
if  the  premiums  on  rascality  were  deducted  from  their  bank-accounts. 


XIII. 

THE  "LONG  VACATION:' 

"  ~OE  seated,  Mr.  Fountain." 

JD  This  was  the  greeting  I  received  from  a  man  who  sat  in  a  great 
arm-chair  before  a  bright  wood  fire  in  one  of  the  rooms  of  an  old 
chateau,  a  genuine  castle,  which  overlooked  one  of  those  shelving  bays 
into  which  the  waves  of  the  Atlantic  have  worn  the  southwestern  coast 
of  France.  On  my  arrival  at  the  hotel  at  Bayonne  to  which  I  had  been 
directed,  I  found  a  conveyance  had  been  ordered  to  take  me  the  thirty- 
odd  miles  which  intervened  between  the  famous  seaport  and  the  place 
of  my  destination.  It  was  nearly  sundown  when  we  arrived,  and  I 
could  well  understand,  as  we  approached,  the  curious  isolation  which  a 
country-house  beyond  the  immediate  range  of  the  great  lines  of  travel 
affords  to  a  foreigner  desirous  of  living  quietly  in  France.  The  Ameri 
can  millionaire  was  far  more  perfectly  secluded  here  than  he  would 
have  been  in  the  wilds  of  Alaska.  None  of  the  incidental  scrutiny  of 
travel  passed  by  his  doors.  Those  who  lived  about  him  cared  nothing  for 
him.  Fishermen  and  farmers  were  his  only  neighbors.  They  knew 
nothing  of  his  antecedents,  and  would  have  cared  nothing  had  they 
known.  Now  and  then  a  strolling  artist  wandered  along  the  coast,  too 
much  engrossed  in  its  quaint  beauty  to  care  to  take  a  ten-mile  tramp  to 
inspect  a  feudal  castle  which  modern  opulence  had  transformed  into  a 
presumably  garish  private  caravansary.  In  reality,  this  was  not  at  all 
true.  An  artist-mind  had  inspired  all  the  changes  and  additions  that 
had  been  made.  One  saw  this  as  he  approached,  and  knew  that  the 
donjon-keep,  though  of  modern  origin,  was  such  as  would  have  suited 
a  lordly  retainer  of  old,  and  somehow  felt  that  it  would  hold  and  guard 
the  secrets  and  interests  of  its  occupants  as  faithfully  as  the  castle  which 
formed  its  central  part  must  have  kept  and  held  the  faith  of  its  sover 
eign  lord.  It  was  no  wonder  that  in  this  retreat  a  man  of  almost 
unlimited  wealth  could  hide  away  for  months  at  a  time.  It  was  his 

251 


252  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

den, — his  burrow, — like  that  to  which  the  lion  hies  away  after  he  has 
slaughtered  his  victims  or  put  his  enemies  to  flight. 

And  the  old  lion — the  battered  man-eater,  broken  and  worn,  yet 
still  grim  and  terrible — was  no  bad  type  of  the  man  who  gave  me  this 
almost  surly  greeting.  The  fireplace  before  which  he  sat  was  cased 
with  modern  tiles,  and  the  floor  made  of  broad  squares  of  red -wood 
set  in  bevelled  frames  of  browner  tint  and  broader  grain  which  must 
have  grown  under  tropic  suns.  Almost  the  one  thing  that  remains  to  me 
of  my  country  life  is  a  fondness  for  studying  the  grainings  of  wood, — 
a  fondness  which  some  artists  share.  Somehow,  I  had  hardly  set  foot 
on  this  exquisite  modern  mosaic  when  a  picture  of  the  charming  little 
house  upon  the  Bergen  Heights  flashed  across  my  mind,  and  my  heart 
was  filled  with  the  thought  of  the  one  being  who  united  this  man's 
destiny  with  my  own. 

It  was  a  white,  wan  face — a  face  of  that  peculiar  pallor  which  tells 
of  the  enemy  at  the  gates  who  will  not  be  denied — that  looked  up  at 
me  from  the  great  leathern-cushioned  chair,  but  the  eyes  were  as  bright 
as  if  the  brows  above  them  were  not  blanched  with  suffering. 

"  This  room  seems  to  have  peculiar  memories  for  you,"  said  Mr. 
Hazzard,  sharply,  as  I  sat  down  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  hearth  : 
u  yet  you  have  never  seen  it  before  ?" 

I  had  not  had  time  to  analyze  my  sensations,  and  so  merely 
answered, — 

"  Never,  sir." 

"  This  is  not  much  like  the  house  you  have  lived  in  for  the  past 
three  years  ?" 

I  smiled  as  I  answered, — 

"  Not  much." 

"  Yet  it  is  of  that  you  thought  ?" 

I  answered  with  a  bow  which  might  or  might  not  mean  assent. 

"  The  reason  is  plain  :  the  same  mind  designed  both,  and  mind  is 
recognizable  whether  it  works  with  gold  or  mortar, — in  likeness  and 
unlikeness.  I  have  seen  a  lapidary  examine  a  diamond  hardly  as  big  as 
a  pea  and  tell  at  once  the  name  of  the  man  who  cut  it  three  hundred 
years  ago.  Brain  leaves  its  impress  even  on  matter,  and  transmits  that 
impression  to  a  receptive  beholder  separated  by  any  distance  of  time  or 
space.  I  suppose  that  is  why  the  architecture  of  the  ancients  was  so 
much  more  distinctive  than  what  is  done  now  :  every  part  had  in  each 
stone  the  impress  of  the  master's  mind. 


THE  "LONG    VACATION."  253 

"  I  cannot  see  anything  in  this  room  to  remind  you  of  the  little 
snuggery  in  Jersey,  and  I  doubt  if  you  could  designate  anything,  but  I 
saw  in  a  moment  that  it  did.  I  built  them  both, — with  the  same  co 
operative  suggestion.  To  you  the  one  became  the  environment  of  the 

woman  you  loved " 

"Mr.  Hazzard,"  I  interrupted,  angrily,  rising  from  my  chair,  "I 
did  not  come  here  to  be  insulted." 

"  Sit  down,  sir,"  he  replied,  looking  steadily  at  me,  but  without  any 
change  of  tone.     "  Sit  down,  Mr.  Fountain." 
I  cannot  tell  why,  but  I  complied  at  once. 

''<  You  came,"  he  said,  calmly,  "  because  I  willed  it.  I  should  not 
have  willed  it  had  I  not  desired  your  assistance,  your  co-operation,  in 
carrying  my^plans  into  effect.  Desiring  your  aid,  I  could  not  have 
intended  to  insult  you  ;  and  without  intention  there  should  be  no 
offence." 

I  stammered  something  about  his  explanation  being  sufficient.  I 
doubt  whether  I  accepted  or  understood  it ;  but  he  was  one  of  those 
men  with  whom  one  can  never  disagree  while  in  their  presence. 

"I  understand  your  feeling  exactly,"  he  said,  with  a  wonderful 
change  in  his  tone,— instead  of  being  imperious,  it  was  now  persua 
sive.  ^  "  No  man  likes  to  have  another  talk  about  his  love-affairs 

especially  a  successful  rival." 

He  laughed, — a  frank,  engaging  laugh. 

"  But  you  can  afford  to  be  generous,"  he  continued.  "  You  are 
alive :  I  am  dead.  I  do  not  wish  to  shock  you,  nor  to  appeal  to  your 
compassion.  I  have  lived  my  life,  good  or  bad  as  it  may  have  been, 
and  I  have  only  now  to  think  how  to  end  it.  It  may  be  a  month,  a  year^ 
—possibly  two  years  ;  though  that  is  not  probable.  In  that  time  I  may 
do  a  good  deal,— more  than  another,  perhaps,  in  a  lifetime,— either  of 
good  or  ill.  Just  now  I  do  not  want  to  do  evil.  In  fact,  I  summoned 
you— through  Mr.  Swallow,  because  I  could  not  call  you  directly— to 
see  if  you  would  help  me  do  a  little  good.  I  would  not  ask  you  to  do 
otherwise,  knowingly.  If  I  wanted  you  to  do  evil  I  should  simply 
ask  your  firm  to  lend  you  to  me  for  a  while  as  my  private  secretary  or 
something  of  that  sort." 

"  My  instructions  are  simply  to  put  myself  at  your  disposal  "  I 
explained. 

"  So  I  supposed,"  he  responded,  with  a  curiously  contemptuous  smile. 
"  Swallow  is  a  good  fellow  and  a  first-rate  lawyer.  The  onlv  trouble 

22  J 


25 1  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

with  Lira,  and  a  very  common  one  with  the  profession,  is  that  of  think 
ing  lie  knows  more  than  his  clients  do  about  their  purposes  and  inten 
tions.  He  is  a  splendid  adviser,  and  would  be  a  safe,  careful  business 
man  if  out  of  the  law ;  but  when  he  tries  to  evolve  another's  motives 
and  purposes  from  his  own  consciousness  he  fails,  because  he  does  not 
distinguish  his  intuitions  of  their  motives  from  his  own  inclinations." 

"  You  have  a  singular  power  of  impressing  his  consciousness,  I 
believe  ?"  I  said,  tentatively. 

"  Every  man  of  strong  will  has  the  power  of  affecting — sugges 
tively  or  compulsorily — the  will  of  some  particular  class  of  men." 

"  Weaker  men,  I  suppose?" 

"  Not  necessarily.  Certainly  weakness  is  not  a  general  character 
istic  of  those  subject  to  such  influence.  Indeed,  I  am  inclined  to  think 
they  would  generally  be  considered  strong  natures.  They  are  at  least 
ardent,  intense,  and  very  generally  forceful  men,  who  give  themselves 
up  to  the  pursuit  of  a  purpose  or  idea  without  reservation.  Such  men 
become  leaders,  inventors,  suggesters.  They  are  very  easily  turned 
aside,  deflected,  but  very  difficult  to  stop.  They  are  like  a  cannon- 
ball,  which  will  penetrate  steel  armor  half  a  foot  thick,  but  which  a 
heap  of  loose  sand  will  send  a  mile  out  of  its  course.  A  jet  of  water 
under  great  pressure  may  be  turned  in  almost  any  direction  by  the 
slightest  tangential  force,  but  will  tear  down  a  mountain  if  directly 
opposed.  There  are  other  natures  which  seem  to  lack  initial  energy. 
Being  a  mechanician  and  an  inventor,  you  know,  I  have  to  use  some 
technical  terms,  though  I  never  knew  anything  about  the  laws  of 
mechanics  until  I  had  made  a  fortune  by  my  inventions.  ^  Very  few 
inventors  do.  You  see,  discovery  rarely  results  from  a  conscious  exten 
sion  of  known  lines,  but  rather  from  daring  invasion  of  the  unknown. 
I  have  often  thought  of  Columbus  since  I  have  been  over  here  looking 
upon  the  same  boundless  expanse  that  he  must  have  gazed  fretfully 
across,  and  tried  to  realize  his  situation  and  impulses.  Now,  in 
spite  of  what  is  written  about  the  knowledge  he  possessed  and  the 
inductions  which  he  made  from  ascertainable  facts,  I  don't  believe 
the  good  Saint  Christopher— for  he  ought  to  head  the  list  of  the  New 
World's  saints,  and  no  doubt  will  some  day — I  don't  believe  he  was  in 
fluenced  a  feather's  weight  by  learned  disquisition  or  deduction.  What 
stirred  his  nature  was  the  great  unknown, — the  watery  pathway  that 
led  none  knew  whither  or  to  what.  That  is  the  true  inspiration  of  the 
discoverer,  it  matters  not  in  what  domain,— the  irrepressible  desire  to 


THE  "LONG  VACATION:'  255 

go  where  others  have  never  been,  to  find  the  unknown,  to  walk  in  a 
path  impressed  by  others'  feet,  and  then — to  mock  at  the  laggards !" 

How  the  man's  eyes  burned  !  They  were  like  two  flashing  spheres 
of  tawny  topaz  set  in  the  waxy  pallor  of  his  face,  with  the  silver  fringe 
of  his  white  brows  falling  over  their  dark  rims. 

He  paused  a  moment,  evidently  repressing  himself  with  an  effort. 
I  could  see  that  he  was  systematically  treasuring  his  vital  power. 

"  Pardon  me,"  he  resumed,  after  a  moment,  with  a  smile,  "  my 
hobby  has  led  me  away  from  my  thought ;  not  an  unusual  thing  with 
men  who  have  hobbies.  I  was  saying  that  there  are  natures  whom  one 
cannot  influence, — natures  which  seem  to  be  shaped  by  surroundings 
rather  than  moved  by  internal  forces,  just  as  molten  metal  runs  into 
the  shapes  made  in  the  sand  and  becomes  fixed  and  hard  and  inflexible. 
They  may  not  be  weak  natures,  but  they  represent  vis  inertice  rather 
than  inherent  force.  If  a  cannon-ball  is  merely  rolled  down  an 
inclined  plane,  it  will  dash  through  a  hillock  of  sand  which  would 
drive  it  out  of  its  path  if  moving  a  thousand  feet  in  a  second.  Such 
natures  are  unimpressible,  at  least  by  any  force  I  can  command.  I 
can — or  could,  rather — impress,  touch,  make  myself  appreciable  to  the 
consciousness  of  Mr.  Swallow  at  any  distance  and  at  almost  any  time. 
I  do  not  know  how  I  did  it, — -just  by  willing,  wishing,  determining  that 
he  should  think  of  a  particular  subject.  I  could  not  always  shape  his 
thought,  but  could  prescribe  its  direction.  Mr.  Gauge,  now,  is  imper 
vious  to  such  influence.  I  am  as  familiar  a  presence  to  him  as  to  Mr. 
Swallow,  though  he  has  only  lately  found  it  out.  It  is  the  same  with 
yon.  I  tried  to  get  hold  of  you  without  letting  Swallow  know,  but  I 
might  as  well  have  tried  to  move  a  quicksand.  I  wanted  you,  and,  as 
I  was  afraid  I  would  not  live  until  we  could  send  forty  miles  and  have 
you  summoned  by  telegraph,  I  concluded  to  try  my  old  power.  I  knew 
when  the  steamer  sailed,  and  that  it  was  the  only  chance  to  get  you 
here  in  time.  It  was  a  foolish  experiment.  I  succeeded,  it  is  true,  but 
it  is  strange  it  did  not  kill  me.  One  wastes  a  lot  of  vital  power  every 
time  he  goes  across  the  world,  taps  another  on  the  shoulder,  and  com 
pels  him  to  think  of  him, — about  the  matter  of  which  he  is  thinking, 
I  mean.  I  don't  intend  to  try  it  again,  ever ;  while  I  live  on  earth, 
that  is." 

"You  expect  to  use  the  faculty  afterwards?"  I  asked,  with  an 
uneasy  feeling. 

"  Most  unquestionably,"  was  the  reply.     "  That  is  one  reason  I 


256  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

selected  Mr.  Swallow  as  my  representative.  I  am  telling  you  a  good 
deal  about  myself,  Mr.  Fountain, — things,  too,  which  I  have  never 
told  any  one  else, — because  I  want  to  convince  you  that  I  have  no 
ulterior  motive — that  I  am  entirely  sincere — in  the  proposition  I  am 
about  to  make  to  you.  I  ought  not,  perhaps,  to  have  alluded  to  your 
love  for  my  wife n 

"  Your  wife  I"  I  exclaimed. 

" Certainly.     Did  you  not  know  that  Mrs.  Murray  is  my  wife?" 

"  I  knew — that  is — I  supposed "  I  stammered. 

"  I  understand,"  he  said.  "  You  supposed  there  might  have  been 
a  common-law  marriage, — a  marriage  by  acknowledgment,  that  is. 
Perhaps  there  was ;  perhaps  not.  It  might  have  been  a  curious  ques 
tion  if  it  had  come  to  trial.  No  doubt  it  will  be  charged  against  me  as 
one  of  my  many  sins,  some  day,  that  for  years  I  maintained  an  illegal 
relation  with  the  occupant  of  that  pretty  little  home  on  the  Bergen 
Heights.  Yet  the  illegality  was  apparent  only.  She  might  have  been 
my  daughter,  so  far  as  any  personal  intimacy  was  concerned.  I  do 
not  know  why  it  was.  I  have  no  doubt  she  would  have  yielded  to 
my  wishes  at  any  time.  She  regarded  that  as  the  tenor  of  the  compact 
between  us ;  and  such  was  the  inflexible  candor  of  her  nature  that  she 
would  not  have  shrunk  from  the  performance  of  her  part  of  the 
bargain.  But  I  wanted  her  to  trust  me,  to  honor  me, — to  love  me, 
in  short.  I  wanted  rest,  rather  than  excitement, — the  rest  which  only 
a  loving,  sympathetic  nature  can  give.  I  was  willing  to  wait.  For 
years  I  went  now  and  then  for  a  few  days7  or  a  few  hours'  rest,  as 
occasion  served,  to  the  cosey  little  nest  over  which  she  presided  with 
such  scrupulous  care.  I  guarded  her  honor,  and  she  respected  my 
secret.  Not  once  did  she  betray  any  dissatisfaction  or  ask  to  know 
more  than  I  volunteered  to  tell  her. 

"  At  length  my  long  forbearance  bore  its  natural  fruit :  she  loved 
the  man  who  had  respected  her  helplessness.  Even  then,  though,  it 
was  more  the  love  of  the  daughter  than  of  the  wife.  She  would  have 
given  her  life  for  me  because  I  had  been  so  kind  and  good  to  her. 
She  had  sold  herself  voluntarily  and  coolly  to  save  her  mother  from  suf 
fering  and  want,  but  she  would  have  consummated  the  sacrifice  willingly 
because  I  had  forborne  to  use  my  power.  It  was  just  at  this  moment 
that  you  formed  her  acquaintance ;  and  I  saw  that  your  society  was 
not  only  agreeable  to  her,  but  that  she  began  to  long  for  that  sense  of 
approval  among  her  associates  which  is  an  inherent  necessity  to  the 


THE  "LONG   VACATION."  257 

female  mind.  A  man  may  be  a  social  hermit, — he  may  care  very 
little  how  he  is  regarded  by  others, — bat  a  woman  must  be  respectable, 
or  she  is  unhappy.  Even  in  her  lowest  estate  she  must  have  some  one 
to  look  upon  her  as  an  equal  or  a  superior,  or  she  cannot  live.  That 
is  one  of  the  moral  differences  of  sex. 

"It  was  in  consequence  of  this  that  I  arranged  for  her  fictitious 
widowhood.  It  was  not  a  difficult  thing  to  do,  and  Fortune  favored 
me,  as  she  usually  does  one  who  is  determined  to  do  without  her  help. 
I  fully  intended  to  leave  her  free — I  mean  in  her  own  estimation — 
to  marry  you  or  any  one  else  she  might  prefer.  I  am  free  to  say  that  I 
had  studied  you  up,  and  thought  you  would  make  her  a  good,  faithful 
husband,  who  would  devote  himself  to  her  happiness,  be  a  competent 
guardian  of  the  little  estate  I  had  provided  should  fall  into  her  hands, 
and  that  with  you  she  would  lead  a  happy,  peaceful,  contented  life,  in 
which  I  would  always  be  pleasantly  and  kindly  remembered. 

"  Don't  thank  me,"  he  continued,  irritably,  with  an  impatient  ges 
ture  of  his  puffy  white  hand.  "  I  did  not  intend  to  do  it  for  your 
sake,  and  had  not  a  particle  of  good  feeling  for  you  while  I  was  thus 
planning  your  happiness.  It  was  her  comfort,  her  happiness,  her  peace, 
I  wished  to  secure.  If  I  could  have  made  her  happy  and  you  miser 
able  at  the  same  time,  it  would  have  pleased  me  still  better.  It  is  all 
the  same,  however.  That  has  usually  been  the  fate  of  my  endeavors 
to  sacrifice  myself:  it  has  become  more  convenient  not  to  do  it.  About 
the  time  I  had  arranged  everything  so  that  you  could  marry  the  woman 
I  loved,  I  found  I  could  marry  her  myself,  and  concluded  to  do  so.  I 
do  not  know  whether  she  would  have  married  you  if  I  had  not  been 
in  existence,  but  I  judge,  from  the  reticence  she  has  shown  in  speaking 
of  you,  that  she  had  a  more  than  usually  kind  feeling  for  you ;  and  I 
will  do  you  the  justice  to  say,  though  I  never  liked  you  and  never 
could  like  you,  that  I  think  you  would  have  deserved  her  confidence 
and  have  done  honor  to  her  love.  However,  I  determined  to  test  her 
love,  and,  if  she  endured  the  test,  to  make  her  my  wife.  I  professed 
to  have  suffered  great  losses,  that  I  was  going  abroad  broken  in  health, 
and  asked  her  to  go  with  me.  The  latter  was  true  enough.  For  the 
past  three  years  I  have  been  paying  the  penalty  for  having  strewed  the 
path  of  life  with  those  '  ashes  of  the  brain'  which  are  the  sure  pre 
cursors  of  decay.  I  could  not  avoid  the  revenge  which  nature  takes 
upon  the  overworked  American.  I  have  fought  with  death  ever  since. 
I  can  see  that  you  recognize  the  scars.  I  said  nothing  about  the  rela- 
22* 


258  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

tion  we  were  to  sustain  to  each  other,  and  she  asked  me  no  questions. 
I  merely  told  her  our  absence  would  be  an  indefinite  one.  She  came, 
as  you  know,  prepared  never  to  return.  I  saw  you  upon  the  dock  after 
I  had  been  carried  aboard.  I  expected  to  find  you  there,  and  was  glad 
I  did.  It  spoke  well  for  you  as  a  man. 

"  Well,  we  were  married  as  soon  as  we  reached  England.  Is  there 
any  question  as  to  its  validity  ?  I  think  not ;  though  it  will  probably 
be  contested  as  soon  as  I  am  dead.  You  know  the  reason  ?  Yes,  I 
was  a  bigamist, — not  exactly  intentionally,  but  at  least  recklessly.  My 
first  wife  was  a  good  enough  woman, — much  better  than  I  deserved, — 
but  nervous,  ambitious,  anxious  to  get  on,  to  be  as  good  if  not  a  little 
better  than  our  neighbors.  I  was  careless  of  little  things,  defiant  of 
opposition,  and  possessed  with  the  idea  that  I  could  make  a  machine  that 
would  sew  better  than  a  tailor — I  was  a  tailor  myself  by  trade — and  as 
fast  as  a  hundred  tailors.  She  believed  in  my  idea  until  the  flour  grew 
low  in  the  barrel,  the  wood-shed  empty,  the  little  one  ragged,  and  she 
realized  that  we  were  becoming  the  laughing-stock  of  the  community. 
Then  she  insisted  that  I  should  stop  inventing,  for  a  while  at  least,  and 
go  to  work.  Her  remonstrance  angered  me  even  more  than  the  ridicule 
of  my  neighbors,  and  I  finally  sold  the  little  property  I  had,  gave  her 
the  proceeds,  and,  with  my  model  under  my  arm,  bade  good-by  to  the 
little  Western  town  and  started  on  foot  for  that  Mecca  of  the  inventor, 
the  rich  and  prosperous  East. 

"  Our  parting  was  not  especially  tender.  Stung  by  want  and 
humiliation,  she  did  not  hesitate  to  use  sharp  words,  to  taunt  me  with 
faults  of  which  I  had  never  intended  to  be  guilty,  and  to  express  the 
Lope  that  I  would  never  return, — a  wish  which  I  promptly  assured  her 
should  be  fulfilled.  Filled  with  anger,  I  changed  my  name  as  soon  as 
I  got  beyond  the  range  of  my  acquaintance,  using  my  middle  name  as 
a  surname.  This  name  long  afterwards  I  had  legitimatized, — in  fact, 
just  before  leaving  the  country.  In  the  mean  time,  I  have  used  several 
others,  though  never  again  dropping  entirely  my  identity, — only  du 
plicating  it.  I  soon  met  with  success,  and  almost  the  first  use  I  made 
of  it  was  to  send  money  to  my  wife.  I  was  very  careful  never  to  send 
it  twice  through  the  same  channel,  and  never  in  such  a  way  that  it 
could  be  traced  back  to  me.  Finally  the  amount  sent  was  refused. 
She  had,  of  course,  divined  its  origin  and  refused  to  take  support  as  an 
abandoned  wife.  I  saw  an  account  in  the  local  paper  of  her  ill  treat 
ment,  also  of  her  resolution  to  accept  no  further  gratuity  at  my  hands. 


THE  "LONG   VACATION."  259 

Awhile  afterwaixls  she  disappeared,  and  I  was  informed,  when  I  had 
inquiries  instituted,  that  both  she  and  her  child  were  dead. 

"I  confess  I  did  not  feel  much  sorrow.  I  had  come  to  have  a 
decided  antipathy  for  her  because  she  did  not  believe  in  my  hobby. 
She  thought  I  hated  the  child.  The  fact  was,  it  only  troubled  me. 
I  had  no  room  in  my  mind  then  for  anything  but  my  idea.  When 
this  had  become  a  success  I  would  have  taken  care  of  them, — perhaps 
in  time  have  become  reconciled  to  my  family ;  but  I  was  not  at  all 
sorry  when  I  found  that  I  had  none.  After  a  time  I  married  again, 
and  was  well  paid  for  my  conduct  to  my  former  wife.  I  was  not  sus 
picious.  It  never  occurred  to  me  that  a  woman  having  everything 
that  wealth  could  buy  could  be  unfaithful.  I  was  absorbed  in  business, 
— how  absorbed,  only  the  American  who  is  the  architect  of  a  great 
fortune  can  ever  imagine.  Almost  at  the  same  moment  the  fact  of  my 
second  wife's  perfidy  and  my  first  wife's  existence  became  known  to  me. 
It  was  a  perilous  situation,  but  its  very  danger  gave  it  a  charm  to  my 
mind.  I  determined  to  make  some  atonement  to  my  wife  and  her 
child,  and  to  protect  the  woman  known  as  my  wife  and  her  children 
from  disgrace.  It  was  a  hard  battle.  I  had  to  separate  myself  entirely 
from  the  latter,  and  yet  do  it  in  a  way  not  to  excite  general  comment. 
This  fight  had  just  ended  when  I  sailed  for  Europe. 

"  My  first  wife  finally  died ;  the  other  had  long  been  dead  to  me, 
and  the  overwhelming  proof  of  her  continued  guilt  had  been  put  in 
form  to  be  perpetuated  for  future  use.  This  was  the  story,  much  ex 
tended,  which  I  told  '  Mrs.  Murray'  as  we  crossed  the  Atlantic,  and  I 
asked  her  to  become  my  wife  and  help  me  make  the  best  of  what  was 
left  of  a  bad  life.  She  consented,  not,  I  think,  without  qualms,  but 
because  she  is  of  that  practical  nature,  so  rare  in  woman,  which  seeks 
for  the  best  thing  that  is  really  attainable,  whether  it  be  the  ideal  good 
or  not.  She  has  helped  me  very  greatly  by  keeping  always  in  my 
mind  the  pledge  I  made  to  her  then.  Thus  far  I  have  managed  to  avoid 
scandal, — I  hardly  know  how.  Of  course  society  thinks  my  wife  is 
my  mistress,  and  that  a  woman  who  has  never  been  my  wife  has  a  legal 
right  to  the  name.  In  order  to  prevent  a  scandal  which  would  blight 
the  happiness  of  the  woman  I  love,  I  must  prevent  the  possibility  of 
personal  attack  upon  her  after  my  death.  I  have  taken  certain  steps, 
of  which  you  know  something,  to  secure  that  end ;  but  they  alone  will 
not — at  least  I  am  apprehensive  that  they  will  not — be  sufficient  to 
save  her  from  unpleasant  attack.  I  can  think  of  but  one  way  to  accom- 


260  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

plish  that  end ;  and  that  is,  to  ask  you  if  you  love  her  well  enough  to 
sacrifice  yourself — your  career,  I  mean,  for  you  will  not  need  to  forego 
any  comforts — for  her  sake." 

"  I — I — do  not  understand  you,"  I  gasped,  in  amazement. 

"  Probably  not,"  he  responded,  coolly ;  "  and  I  have  no  notion  of 
explaining  myself.  I  simply  ask  you  if  you  love  my  wife  well  enough 
to  sacrifice  something  of  your  independence,  possibly  your  dreams  of 
domestic  felicity,  and  certainly  your  professional  prospects,  to  save  her 
from  sorrow,  disgrace,  and  persecution." 

"  If  I  could  be  assured "  I  began. 

"  There  are  not  many  men  who  would  question  the  assurance  of 
Andrew  M.  Hazzard  that  one  of  his  plans  would  not  miscarry." 

"  Does  your  wife  know  of  your  intentions?" 

"  Not  a  word, — and  will  not  until  my  death." 

"She,  of  course,  knows  that  you  have  summoned  me?" 

"  She  has  no  idea  that  I  ever  thought  about  you." 

"  Will  I  be  permitted  to  see  her  during  my  stay?" 

"  You  will  make  no  stay.  Whether  you  accede  to  my  proposal  or 
not,  you  will  leave  here  to-night,  and  will  neither  see  nor  communicate 
with  her  until  you  learn  of  my  death." 

I  rose  and  walked  back  and  forth  across  the  room  once  or  twice. 

"  And  you  believe  my  assent  to  your  conditions  will  enhance  her 
happiness?"  I  asked,  at  length. 

"  That  is  my  conviction,  and  is  the  sole  reason  of  my  making  this 
proposal." 

"  I  will  do  what  you  wish,"  I  said,  going  towards  him  and  extend 
ing  my  hand. 

"  There  is  no  need  of  that,"  he  said,  impatiently,  waving  my  hand 
aside.  "  I  know  I  am  securing  your  comfort,  ease,  and  happiness,  but 
I  do  not  like  you  any  better  for  that.  What  I  am  doing  is  for  her 
sake  alone :  you  are  a  mere  incident  of  her  happiness.  I  hate  you 
because  I  think  you  are  an  essential  incident  of  it,  and  take  this  course 
only  because  I  do  not  see  any  other  way  by  which  the  end  may  be  at 
tained.  I  don't  want  to  shake  hands  with  you,  but  you  know  you  can 
rely  on  my  word." 

"  I  will  do  what  you  wish,"  I  said,  coolly,  as  I  walked  back  to  my 
seat,  "  What  are  your  instructions  ?" 

"  You  will  return  at  once  to  London  and  take  lodgings  suitable  to  a  . 
gentleman  of  wealth  and  leisure.     Go  into  society  as  little  as  you  can, 


THE  "LONG  VACATION:'  261 

but  make  yourself  familiar  with  the  city  and  the  surrounding  country. 
Do  not  mind  expense.  You  will  find  in  this" — handing  me  an  enve 
lope  as  he  spoke — "enough  to  serve  your  reasonable  needs  until  my 
death.  If  you  require  more,  let  me  know.  You  can  engage  in  any 
study  you  choose,  but  no  business.  I  would  recommend  that  you  study 
all  European  tongues.  You  may  have  need  for  them.  Notify  Gauge 
&  Swallow  that  you  have  left  their  employ,  and  break  off  all  communi 
cation  with  the  New  World  except  what  is  absolutely  essential.  You 
can  go  anywhere  in  Europe  that  you  choose,  taking  care  never  to  be 
more  than  twenty-four  hours  from  Paris,  and  reporting  to  me  every 
change  of  address  before  it  is  made.  Be  sure  that  the  telegraph  com 
pany  always  knows  your  address,  that  there  may  be  no  delay  in  reach 
ing  you.  On  receiving  a  summons  you  will  come  to  me  without  deJay. 
On  hearing  of  my  death  you  will  take  the  first  train  to  Paris.  On  the 
way  you  will  open  this  envelope,  which  you  will  always  carry  on  your 
person,  and  obey  the  directions  it  contains.  You  will  never  mention 
my  name  nor  admit  that  you  have  any  knowledge  of  my  affairs.  Do 
you  understand  ?" 

"  I  think  so." 

"  And  you  assent  to  these  conditions  ?" 

"I  do." 

"  Very  well.  I  know  I  can  rely  upon  you.  You  have  relieved 
me  from  great  anxiety.  I  would  rather  lose  all  I  have  acquired  than 
know  that  the  woman  I  love  will  suffer  humiliation  and  shame  on  my 
account.  I  think  you  have  enabled  me  to  secure  her  from  it.  You  have 
my  thanks,  and  I  believe  you  will  receive  some  time  a  reward  you  will 
prize  much  more  highly  than  my  gratitude.  There  is  not  much  more 
to  be  said." 

He  touched  a  bell :  a  servant  entered,  and  at  a  sign  drew  a  writing- 
desk  to  his  side.  He  opened  it,  and  took  out  a  small  metallic  case 
covered  with  Russian  leather. 

"  This  case,"  he  said,  "  I  deliver  into  your  keeping.  You  will 
please  inspect  its  contents,  so  far  as  you  can  without  breaking  the  seals, 
and  note  the  character  of  each,  to  see  that  it  conforms  to  this  list." 

He  handed  me  the  papers  and  the  list,  which  I  hastily  compared. 

"  You  will  please  sign  this  receipt,"  he  said,  indicating  an  acknowl 
edgment  at  the  foot  of  the  list.  I  did  as  requested.  He  locked  the 
case  and  handed  it  back  to  me. 

"  Immediately  on  arriving  in  London  you  will  deposit  this  in  a  safe 


262  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

place.  It  requires  two  keys  to  unlock  it.  You  will  retain  one  of  them, 
and  open  it  whenever  the  other  shall  be  brought  you  with  this  list,  in 
the  presence  of  the  holder,  whoever  it  may  be." 

He  summoned  a  servant  and  gave  directions  for  my  departure. 
After  a  moment  I  was  informed  that  the  carriage  was  at  the  door. 

"I  am  sorry  to  seem  discourteous,"  said  Mr.  Hazzard,  as  he  rose 
with  difficulty.  "  You  will  find  everything  provided  for  your  comfort. 
I  wish  you  a  safe  journey." 

"  Good-by,  sir,"  I  said,  as  I  bowed  my  way  out. 

He  waved  his  hand,  and  sank  back  into  the  chair,  evidently  much 
exhausted. 

An  hour  afterwards  I  was  on  my  way  back  to  the  city.  As  I  drove 
away,  the  moon  was  shining  brightly,  and  I  kissed  my  hand  to  the 
figure  of  a  woman  standing  on  one  of  the  balconies  silhouetted  against 
the  sky.  She  looked  dreamily  down  at  the  carriage,  unconscious  of  my 
act  of  devotion. 

I  led  a  pleasant  life  during  the  two  years  succeeding  this  interview 
with  Hazzard,  though  some  would  not  have  thought  it  such.  For 
the  first  time  in  my  experience  I  had  no  need  to  practise  economy. 
The  draft  he  gave  me  had  provided  a  larger  balance  at  my  banker's  than 
I  had  ever  expected  to  possess.  When  I  presented  it  I  was  closely 
scrutinized,  and  when  I  spoke  of  opening  an  account  it  was  intimated 
that  recommendations  were  customary.  I  pointed  to  the  draft  in  the 
teller's  hand,  and  told  him,  with  a  smile,  if  that  was  not  recommenda 
tion  enough  I  would  take  it  elsewhere.  He  smiled  frankly  back,  and 
asked — more  for  form's  sake  than  otherwise,  I  thought — how  long  I 
expected  to  keep  an  account  with  them.  I  told  him,  carelessly,  it 
might  be  a  month,  it  might  be  a  year,  it  might  be  forever;  at  present 
I  merely  wanted  to  deposit  the  draft ;  within  a  week  I  might  want  to 
draw  a  small  sum  ;  as  to  the  balance  I  had  not  yet  decided.  He  re 
tired,  evidently  to  consult  the  president,  and  after  a  few  moments  I  was 
ushered  into  that  functionary's  presence.  There  was  no  cross-exami 
nation  here,  but  I  was  conscious  that  the  keen  eyes  which  looked  over 
the  gold-bowed  glasses  were  "  taking  stock"  of  me  with  exceeding  care. 
He  seemed  to  be  satisfied,  and  the  necessary  preliminaries  were  ar 
ranged.  The  bank  was  one  to  which  I  had  been  directed  by  Mr.  Haz 
zard.  I  learned  afterwards  that  it  was  one  with  which  he  had  never 
had  any  dealings. 

I  did  not  regard  the  money  as  mine.     It  belonged  to  Hazzard,  and 


THE  "LONG  VACATION:'  2G3 

was  given  to  me  for  my  expenses.  I  did  not  doubt  that  he  intended 
the  surplus  to  be  mine  ;  but  I  had  no  right  to  treat  it  as  such  in  the 
mean  time.  I  felt  no  scruples,  however,  in  using  it  freely  for  anything 
that  I  needed  or,  within  reasonable  bounds,  desired.  I  had  enough  to 
serve  me  for  a  while,  however,  and  so  made  no  draft  on  the  sum  at  my 
banker's  for  several  weeks.  Then  I  took  lodgings  in  a  convenient 
quarter,  fitted  them  up  to  my  own  notion,  and  began  to  live  in  a  new 
fashion,  indulging  my  tastes  and  inclinations  without  restraint,  but 
making  no  acquaintances. 

It  is  curious  how  pleasant  the  life  of  a  permanent  stranger  in  a 
great  city  may  be  made,  if  only  he  has  good  clothes,  good  manners, 
literary  or  artistic  taste,  and  self-control  enough  not  to  attempt  to  es 
tablish  social  relations.  One  is,  of  course,  an  outcast  in  a  certain  sense, 
but  an  outcast  to  whom  the  world  offers  all  its  pleasures  without  being 
able  to  impose  upon  him  any  of  its  burdens.  I  did  not  feel  bound  by 
the  customs  of  those  by  whom  I  was  surrounded.  By  the  time  my 
lodgings  were  ready,  I  had  settled  my  plans.  I  arranged  to  take  les 
sons  in  modern  languages,  as  advised  by  Hazzard,  bought  a  horse,  but 
did  not  indulge  in  a  groom,  and  applied  myself  sedulously  to  the  study 
of  London  and  its  surroundings.  For  my  recreation  I  had  the  courts, 
libraries,  theatres,  and  Parliament  when  in  session.  In  a  year  I  knew 
London  and  the  country  around  it  far  better  than  most  people  who  are 
born  within  sound  of  Bow-Bells.  I  knew  nothing  of  my  employer's 
purpose,  but  faithfully  carried  out  my  instructions  as  I  understood 
them.  At  the  end  of  that  time  I  had  expended  one-fifth  of  the  sum 
placed  in  my  hands.  It  was  ten  times  as  much  as  I  had  ever  spent  in 
a  like  period  before.  The  year  passed  very  quickly.  Some  would 
have  fretted,  no  doubt,  about  the  uncertainties  of  the  future  :  I  did  not. 
I  knew  that  the  woman  I  loved  was  in  safety,  and  believed  that  some 
how  or  other — I  had  no  idea  how — I  was  being  prepared  to  serve  her 
in  a  time  of  need.  I  had  an  impression  that  my  employer  was  keep 
ing  an  eye  on  me.  I  had  no  objection  :  I  was  doing  his  work  accord 
ing  to  his  directions  and  in  the  way  that  pleased  me  best.  If  my 
method  did  not  suit  him,  he  could  change  his  purpose  at  any  time.  I 
had  not  sought  the  place,  and,  now  that  I  knew  the  truth  in  regard  to 
the  one  woman  I  had  ever  loved,  I  somehow  did  not  care  greatly 
whether  I  kept  it  or  not.  I  was  faithful  to  my  agreement  more  from 
habit  than  from  inclination,  and  liked  Andrew  Hazzard  no  better  than 
he  liked  me. 


2G4  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

Not  long  after  I  had  opened  ray  account  at  the  bank,  the  president 
suggested  that  if  I  did  not  need  all  my  funds  there  were  very  good 
opportunities  for  temporary  investment  on  the  market  at  the  time.  I 
thought  then  that  his  hint  was  suggested  by  his  own  suspicion.  I  as 
sured  him,  with  diplomatic  earnestness,  that  I  would  consult  him  before 
making  any  investments.  I  have  since  thought  that  it  might  have  been 
suggested  by  my  employer.  Towards  the  end  of  the  year  my  banker 
sent  me  a  note  asking  me  to  call,  and,  when  I  entered  his  private 
apartment,  showed  me  with  great  solemnity  a  letter  from  a  Parisian 
banker  who  said  he  acted  on  behalf  of  a  patron,  inquiring  as  to  my 
financial  condition. 

"  What  answer  shall  I  make?"  asked  the  president,  anxiously. 

"  Send  a  transcript  of  my  account,"  I  answered. 

"  Do  you  know  the  source  of  the  inquiry  ?" 

"  I  suspect  it." 

"  Has  the  party  a  right  to  make  it  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes ;  any  one  has." 

"  Certainly  ;  but  don't  you  see  this  might  be  an  enemy  as  well  as  a 
friend  ?  He  may  have  your  check,  or  something  of  that  sort." 

"  Very  well,"  I  said  :  "  send  the  statement ;  or,  better  still,  have  it 
prepared  while  I  wait.  You  may  give  me  a  copy  too." 

When  I  had  seen  this  put  under  cover  to  his  Parisian  correspond 
ent,  I  asked  for  a  check,  drew  out  all  but  a  trivial  sum,  and  made  a 
special  deposit  of  it  with  the  banker. 

"  Now,"  said  I,  "  if  doubt  inspired  the  inquiry,  no  harm  will  arise, 
since  I  have  not  a  check  out ;  if  fraud,  it  is  sure  to  be  detected." 

I  could  see  that  the  banker  regarded  this  as  a  very  sharp  thing  to  do. 

A  week  afterwards  another  draft  was  received  from  Mr.  Hazzard, 
with  an  intimation  that  it  would  be  desirable  for  me  to  purchase  a 
pleasant  house  somewhere  within  an  hour  or  two  of  the  metropolis 
and  occupy  it  a  part  of  the  time  at  least,  so  as  to  become  known  in  the 
neighborhood.  It  was  also  intimated  that  it  might  be  well  for  me  to 
devote  my  leisure  to  French  law,  especially  as  regards  inheritance  and 
succession. 

I  considered  these  intimations  both  as  fresh  instructions  and  as  ap 
proval  of  what  I  had  already  done.  Strangely  enough,  during  some 
weeks  I  had  thought  of  doing  the  very  things  I  was  thus  directed  to 
do.  Could  it  be  that  I  was  coming  under  the  mysterious  power  of  my 
patron, — the  power  he  had  assured  me  he  never  intended  to  exercise 


THE  "LONG   VACATION."  265 

again  ?  Or  was  it  true,  the  theory  he  had  broached,  that  this  was  only  a 
general  law  of  mind,  which  draws  two  intellects  simultaneously  engaged 
with  the  same  thought  into  the  same  channel,  without  regard  to  dis 
tance?  The  thought  startled  me.  More  than  once  I  had  found  my 
self  pursuing  a  train  of  thought  which  seemed  to  have  been  suddenly 
but  imperiously  suggested  by  another.  I  obeyed  instructions,  however, 
and  in  a  short  time  became  the  owner  of  a  neat  little  villa  which  I 
judged  would  at  all  times  be  worth  its  cost,  and  would  constitute  a 
cosey  nest  should  one  at  any  time  desire  to  become  practically  invisible 
to  the  world.  I  thought  I  began  finally  to  understand  something  of 
my  patron's  plan,  and  greatly  admired  its  adroitness.  How  little  I 
understood  its  boldness  and  sagacity,  events  were  yet  to  prove.  Con 
fident,  however,  that  I  knew  for  whose  occupancy  the  villa  was  intended, 
I  occupied  myself  most  pleasantly  in  furnishing  and  decorating  it  so  as 
to  suit  her  taste. 

A  few  weeks  afterwards  I  was  startled  at  receiving  emphatic  in 
structions  to  retain  my  present  quarters,  though  occupying  the  villa  a 
good  part  of  the  time,  and  also  to  prepare  myself  to  secure  lodgings  for 
a  lady  in  the  same  parish,  at  a  moment's  notice.  After  that  there  came 
every  now  and  then  peremptory  orders,  some  of  which  I  was  able  to 
guess  the  object  of,  while  others  have  remained  as  yet  entirely  inscru 
table. 

It  was  a  little  more  than  two  years  when  I  was  wakened  one  night 
from  a  sound  sleep  to  the  consciousness  that  some  other  human  presence 
was  in  the  room.  I  knew  in  an  instant  that  it  was  Hazzard,  and  that 
he  was  dead.  I  did  not  see  anything ;  I  did  not  hear  anything :  I 
was  merely  conscious  of  another's  presence.  I  was  not  at  all  alarmed, 
but,  feeling  sure  that  I  would  soon  receive  a  summons  to  depart,  I  at 
once  arose  and  began  my  preparations.  It  was  a  quarter-past  four 
o'clock.  Upon  a  sheet  of  paper  on  my  table  were  written  the  words, 
"Destroy  all  traces."  The  handwriting  was  exactly  like  that  of  An 
drew  Hazzard.  I  have  no  recollection  of  having  written  it  myself, 
though  I  may  have  done  so  in  an  unconscious  state.  Certain  it  is  that 
ever  since  that  time  I  have  been  able  under  peculiar  conditions  to  imi 
tate  this  handwriting  so  perfectly  that  even  Professor  Cadmus,  whose 
opinion  Mr.  Swallow  took  in  the  matter,  unhesitatingly  declared  it  to 
have  been  done  by  Mr.  Hazzard.  Whether  I  was  able  to  do  this  be 
fore  that  time  or  not,  I  do  not  know :  I  do  not  think  I  had  ever  at 
tempted  it.  The  most  curious  thing  about  it,  however,  is  the  fact  that 
23  M 


266  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

I  am  not  always  fully  aware  of  what  I  am  doing  at  such  times,  and 
frequently  write  about  matters  of  which  I  have  no  conscious  knowledge. 
I  usually  find  such  letters  upon  my  desk  in  the  morning,  sealed  and 
addressed  to  Mr.  Swallow.  At  first  I  opened  one  or  two  of  them,  but, 
finding  myself  unfamiliar  with  their  contents,  I  concluded  to  forward 
them,  without  further  scrutiny,  to  their  address.  I  understand  that 
more  than  one  attempt  has  been  made  to  trace  these. letters.  Mr. 
Swallow  thinks  he  is  acting  under  the  spiritual  direction  of  his  testator, 
while  other  parties  who  are  interested  in  the  matter  profess  to  believe 
that  the  death  of  Andrew  M.  Hazzard  at  Bayonne  was  a  cunningly- 
contrived  scheme  of  that  gentleman  himself,  who  has  only  disappeared 
in  order  to  see  that  his  wishes  in  regard  to  the  distribution  of  his 
estate  are  faithfully  carried  out.  Such  persons  affect  to  believe  that  in 
case  any  serious  controversy  about  the  disposition  of  his  millions  were 
to  arise  he  would  reappear  to  the  discomfiture  of  the  parties  opposing 
his  desires. 

This  theory  seems  to  receive  support  from  the  fact  that  the  coffin 
occupying  the  grave  marked  with  his  name  in  the  little  Protestant 
cemetery  overlooking  the  sea,  being  surreptitiously  examined,  was 
found  to  contain  no  traces  of  a  human  form.  It  was  half  full  of 
clean  white  sand  instead,  covered  with  funeral  wreaths.  The  proof 
of  death,  however,  was  conclusive.  The  physician,  the  notary,  and  the 
innkeeper  had  all  known  the  deceased  for  several  years,  and  certified  to 
his  death  with  all  essential  particularity.  The  disappearance  of  the 
body  was  an  undeniable  fact,  as  was  also  that  of  his  wife.  With  much 
difficulty  she  was  traced  to  Paris,  where  all  track  of  her  was  lost.  The 
castle,  which  was  found  to  have  been  purchased  in  her  name  before  the 
date  of  her  marriage,  was  left  in  charge  of  a  notary,  from  whom  permis 
sion  to  examine  it  was  easily  obtainable  by  any  one  professing  to  repre 
sent  a  possible  purchaser.  All  that  could  be  learned  in  regard  to  the 
widow,  however,  was  the  fact  that  four  days  after  her  husband's  burial 
she  had  executed  in  Paris  with  all  due  formality,  and  after  the  fullest 
identification,  an  absolute  and  unconditional  surrender  of  all  claims,  as 
heir  or  distributee,  upon  the  estate  of  her  late  husband,  a  copy  of  which 
was  forwarded  to  the  executor,  with  a  certificate  that  a  duplicate  had 
been  filed  in  the  archives  of  the  Department  of  the  Pyrenees.  As  a 
result  of  these  things,  the  settlement  of  the  estate  has  proceeded  with 
out  scandal  or  serious  litigation,  notwithstanding  the  peculiar  circum- 


THE  "LONG   VACATION."  267 

stances  of  the  testator's  life.  Hardly  two  years  have  elapsed,  and  the 
executor  has  secured  the  release  of  every  one  having  the  remotest  claim 
on  the  decedent,  whose  estate  has  thus  been  equitably  applied  to  the 
purposes  he  desired. 

As  for  my  own  part  in  this,  it  might  seem  perhaps  that  I  had  been 
guilty  of  fraudulent  practices ;  and  it  is  quite  possible  that  I  have.  I 
do  not  think,  however,  that  any  one  has  been  harmed,  and  I  am  sure 
that  many  have  been  benefited  thereby.  I  do  not  know  the  contents 
of  most  of  the  letters  I  have  written  to  the  executor,  and  do  not  care 
to  learn  them.  I  have  been  informed  that  these  have  given  very  full 
and  reliable  information  as  to  the  life  of  Mr.  Hazzard  under  different 
aliases.  Of  this  I  am  sure  I  knew  nothing  beyond  the  mere  conjecture 
that  he  had  done  business  as  Murrow,  Murray,  and  Anderson,  as  well 
as  Hazzard.  What  his  life  had  been  under  these  aliases  I  had  no 
knowledge  beyond  what  he  had  told  me  in  my  one  interview  with  him. 
If  I  wrote  anything  in  regard  to  it,  I  am  sure  it  was  under  the  in 
fluence  of  some  other  intelligence.  I  did  use  my  own  discretion  in 
mailing  these  communications  at  different  points  in  and  about  the  city, 
so  as  to  avoid  detection.  I  do  not  think  I  would  ever  have  taken  the 
part  I  have  in  this  matter,  whether  it  has  been  entirely  voluntary  or 
not,  had  I  not  thought  it  would  serve  to  protect  the  woman  I  loved 
from  annoyance.  Aside  from  this  I  have  derived  no  advantage  what 
ever  from  the  executor's  action. 

The  specific  written  directions  of  Mr.  Hazzard  required  Mr. 
Swallow  to  retire  from  the  practice  when  he  qualified  as  executor,  and 
that  he  should  employ  Mr.  Minton  as  his  special  counsel  and  successor 
in  case  of  his  decease.  This,  of  course,  broke  up  the  firm ;  and,  as  I 
happened  to  return  just  at  that  time,  I  was  asked  to  take  Mr.  Minton's 
phice.  For  two  years  the  firm  has  been  Gauge,  Burrill  &  Fountain. 
During  this  time  I  have  lived  with  Burrill,  who  in  my  absence  and 
much  against  my  will  had  married  my  mother.  The  marriage  of  such 
elderly  people  has  always  seemed  to  me  supremely  ridiculous ;  but  I 
must  confess  that  both  seem  to  be  happier  on  account  of  their  union, 
and  my  mother's  careful  ministrations  have  no  doubt  done  much  to 
prolong  a  useful  and  worthy  life. 

It  is  not  need  that  has  induced  me  to  dwell  thus  modestly  with 
these  good  people.  My  balance  in  the  London  bank  was  so  swollen 
by  deposits  in  my  favor  from  time  to  time  that  before  taking  my 


268  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

departure  I  deemed  it  advisable  to  invest  the  greater  part  in  bonds, 
which  I  placed  on  deposit  with  a  safe  company.  I  might  therefore 
have  figured  as  a  rich  man  or  engaged  in  speculation  with  abundant 
capital  at  my  back ;  but  I  have  no  desire  to  be  a  "  plunger,"  and  do 
not  know  at  what  moment  this  money  may  be  required  for  some  other 
purpose.  So  I  have  lived  quietly  with  the  old  people  upon  the  Jersey 
hill-crest  which  fashion  has  ignored,  though  it  is  perhaps  the  sightliest 
place  in  the  world,  overlooking  the  homes  of  more  millions  than  can 
be  observed  from  any  other  point.  Perhaps  a  special  reason  for  this 
is  the  fact  that  the  memory  of  the  woman  I  love  clings  about  the  house 
and  I  keep  hoping  that  her  voice  may  summon  me  from  it. 

Where  is  she?  I  do  not  know;  but  I  have  this  satisfaction: 
wherever  she  may  be,  it  is  my  name  that  has  furnished  her  an  impene 
trable  cover  from  her  enemies.  No  search  has  been  sufficient  to  pene 
trate  her  disguise;  no  reward  has  proved  adequate  to  discover  her 
whereabouts.  I  am  the  only  one  who  knows  anything  about  her,  and 
this  is  all  I  know. 

"Whether  I  shall  ever  know  more  I  cannot  tell.  There  have  been 
strange  revelations  made  in  tracing  up  the  life  of  Andrew  Hazzard, — 
revelations  which,  if  they  should  once  get  beyond  the  barriers  which 
the  law  places  on  the  attorney's  lips,  would  make  the  world  wonder 
whether  the  financial  miracles  which  have  rendered  his  name  famous 
for  all  time  are  any  more  wonderful  than  the  power  of  self-obliteration 
and  concealment  of  plans  and  purposes  which  enabled  him  to  duplicate 
himself  so  many  times,  to  live  so  many  successful  lives  and  leave  no 
tangible  clues  to  his  identity  in  either.  More  than  one  who  did  not 
dream  of  relationship  to  him  has  found  a  part  of  the  millionaire's 
estate  proffered  for  their  acceptance.  To  all  questions  of  how  or  why, 
Mr.  Swallow  has  been  deaf  and  dumb.  Some  accepted  without  ques 
tion  ;  others  demanded  more ;  all  eventually  came  to  his  terms.  Mr. 
Minton's  wonder  at  being  selected  as  the  counsel  for  the  great  estate 
was  increased  when  he  found  that  a  portion  of  it  was  carved  out  for 
John  Codman's  erratic  daughter's  lost  child. 

Professor  Cadmus  was  the  one  friend  whom  Hazzard  had  trusted 
in  all,  or  at  least  many,  of  his  aliases.  He  had  known  him  as  a  poor 
visionary  country  tailor,  and  had  advanced  him  the  money  necessary 
to  secure  his  first  patent.  This  had  been  many  times  repaid ;  but 
money  did  not  stick  to  the  fingers  of  this  erratic  genius;  and  financial 


THE  "LONG   VACATION."  269 

reverses  finally  compelled  him  to  appeal,  like  his  more  fortunate  friend, 
to  the  security  of  an  alias.  The  fame  of  his  great  case  brought  him 
again  to  Hazzard's  notice,  and  he  was  never  afterwards  allowed  to  feel 
the  need  of  money.  Mr.  Swallow  averred  that  the  dead  man  desired 
this  friend  of  his  youth  to  be  amply  provided  for,  and  it  was  done. 
So,  too,  some  notable  public  charities  were  aided,  Mr.  Swallow  declaring 
himself  only  the  agent  of  the  dead  man's  purpose.  So  the  great  estate 
melted  into  fragments.  The  evil  of  a  life  of  wonderful  activity  and 
strange  irregularity  was  at  last  partially  remedied,  and  the  name  of 
the  great  financier  left  untarnished  by  tangible  shame,  so  that  it  will 
long  be  cited  as  an  example  and  an  incentive  to  the  young  of  a  land 
which  exults  far  more  in  the  wealth  of  its  millionaires  than  in  all  the 
other  facts  of  its  history. 

But  there  is  one  thing  the  executor  cannot  find  out ;  and  that  is, 
what  has  become  of  the  woman  who  was  the  wife  of  Andrew  Murray 
Hazzard  when  he  died.  That  is  my  secret, — my  romance.  We  are 
told  that  men  are  romantic  at  twenty  and  sensible  at  forty.  I  think  it 
must  be  the  reverse  with  me.  I  am  getting  close  upon  forty,  and  am 
more  romantic  than  ever  before.  So  I  sit  and  muse  under  the  sloping 
roof,  in  the  cosey  little  room  where  I  first  told  my  love,  as  the  second 
year  draws  to  its  close  since  the  dead  man  summoned  me  to  do  the 
work  he  left  unperformed. 


Will  the  world  ever  know  my  secret  ?  I  am  sure  I  cannot  guess. 
Never  will  my  lips  reveal  it  unless  unsealed  by  the  touch  of  hers. 
What  is  that  ?  A  cablegram  for  me  ?  I  snatch  the  yellow  wrapper 
with  its  cautionary  device,  glance  at  the  superscription,  sign  the  receipt, 
and  tear  open  the  envelope.  It  has  come.  My  waiting  is  at  an  end. 
To-morrow  I  begin  a  new  life.  Where  ?  Oh,  I  care  not.  I  am  going 
to  forget  the  past,  live  in  the  present,  and  dream  of  the  future.  What 
will  I  do  ?  Write  my  name  Gerald  de  Fontaine  once  more,  after  the 
good  old  style.  Who  is  it  from  ?  What  are  its  contents  ?  I  would 
not  take  all  of  Andrew  Hazzard's  millions  for  that  little  bit  of  paper, 
with  its  scrawly  address  and  one  word  of  message.  It  is  from  my 
wife, — my  wife,  whom  I  married  a  short  month  after  her  husband's 
death,  in  the  most  popular  church  in  London,  and  left  hidden  under  her 
23* 


270  WITH  GAUGE  &  SWALLOW. 

own  proper  name  in  the  little  villa  at  Ipswich.  Not  once  has  suspicion 
turned  towards  her  or  myself. 

How  did  we  arrange  it?  It  was  all  arranged  for  us.  We  met 
in  Paris  three  days  after  Hazzard's  death,  each  acting  by  his  direction, 
not  knowing  whom  we  were  to  meet.  His  wishes  were  that  we  should 
be  married  without  delay,  publicly  and  regularly,  according  to  English 
law,  and  retire  at  once  to  the  villa  I  had  purchased.  This  would  hide 
her  effectually.  No  one  would  suspect  so  remarkable  a  transformation 
until  she  chose  to  declare  it,  and*  no  one  would  dream  of  identifying  her 
with  one  of  the  parties  to  a  marriage  openly  contracted  so  soon  after 
his  demise. 

It  was  not  at  all  romantic.  Harsh,  cold,  matter-of-fact  was  the 
dead  husband's  letter  to  the  young  widow.  She  made  two  conditions. 
The  first  was  that  she  be  allowed  to  renounce  all  claim  to  the  husband's 
estate.  I  did  not  object.  I  do  not  love  poverty,  but  I  would  have 
faced  want  to  call  her  mine.  The  second  was  harder, — that  I  should 
leave  her  as  soon  as  we  were  wed,  and  not  see  her  again  until  she  sum 
moned  me.  When  would  that  be  ?  She  did  not  know :  she  would 
give  no  hope.  These  terms  she  would  not  abate  a  jot,— except  that  I 
might  write  to  her,  not  above  once  a  month,  and  she  would  answer, — 
if  she  chose.  I  accepted.  She  would  at  least  be  mine, — be  known 
by  my  name.  I  have  complied  with  the  conditions,  have  waited, 
and  written — twenty-three  letters.  Three  brief  notes  have  come  in 
reply. 

And  this  telegram  of  one  word, — what  does  it  mean  ?  "  Venez." 
That  is  all  it  says.  In  a  fortnight  the  second  anniversary  of  our  mar 
riage  will  occur.  Does  she  want  me  then  ?  Has  she  learned  to  love  me 
a  little?  I  do  not  know.  She  has  summoned  me,  and  I  obey.  What 
ever  happens,  I  shall  never  return  to  the  old  life. 

Am  I  not  afraid  through  her  to  link  my  soul  with  Hazzard's  sin? 
Did  not  all  the  good  of  that  wild,  wonderful  life  spring  from  her  un- 
stainable  uprightness,  her  sinless  siufulness  ?  Do  not  quote  any  wise 
saws  to  me.  Did  you  ever  note  in  what  soil  flowers  grow  ?  But  it 
matters  not :  I  think  I  would  give  for  her  all  there  is  of  life,  present 
and  to  come.  I  am  not  sure  that  to  give  her  ever  so  little  joy  I  would 
not  bar  myself  from  all  chance  of  happiness. 

Yet  I  am  not  without  hope.  On  what  is  it  based  ?  She  has  writ 
ten  no  word  of  love, — given  no  hint.  But  in  the  Salon  this  year  there 


THE  "LONG  VACATION:'  271 

was  a  wonderful  picture, — at  least  a  curious  one.  Somebody  sent  me 
a  photograph  of  it.  It  was  entitled  "  The  Betrothal."  A  woman  in 
widow's  weeds,  her  face  turned  away  from  the  beholder,  holds  a  letter 
in  her  right  hand,  the  arm  falling  straight  down  against  the  black 
drapery.  She  is  talking  to  a  man  who  holds  a  richly-ornamented 
casket  upon  his  knee.  The  painter  is  unknown.  All  Paris  is  agog  to 
guess  the  riddle.  The  face  is  mine. 


THE   END. 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 


LOAN  DEPT, 


This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 
Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


26Mar'59Rp 


MAR  2  4  1959 


General  Library 

University  of  California 

Berkeley 


LD  21A-50m-9,'58 
(6889slO)476B 


M12022 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


